Every Star a Candle
by D-Scythe
Summary: Twenty-two years after Endless Waltz; Politicol infighting is on the verge of tearing the Earthsphere apart. Shades of the past are brought forward as the pilots prepare to face an alien foe and pray humaity does not destroy itself before it can be saved.
1. Old Coals

An icy wind swept across the frozen plain 

Forward: This story is the sequel to my first story, _Duo: The Great Destroyer Never Again_. While I would recommend reading that first, it is not necessary to enjoy this story. This is a basic outline of what occurred:

In AC 198, Hilde Maxwell died at the hands of a pirate group calling themselves the Wraiths. Duo forsook the help and advice of his fellow pilots and headed for space, blinded by rage, and intent on revenge.

During his first encounter with the Wraiths, Duo's Gundam was destroyed by a wickedly fast and maneuverable Gundam piloted by the Wraith's leader. Now that the Wraiths believed him dead, Duo infiltrated their organization and used his superior piloting and combat skills to catch the eye of the Wraith's leader.

The Wraiths were led by a former Oz general named Hugh Cobalt. He was impressed by Duo's skill and soon granted him command of a squadron of suits. As Duo made ready to destroy General Cobalt, the Wraiths revealed their true intentions. General Cobalt manipulated standing orders from Trieze Kushrenada in hopes of seizing power for himself.

Preventer forces seceded and joined the Wraiths while Quatre used his company's resources to create new Gundams for Trowa, himself, and Wuffie. Heero was shot and nearly killed in a failed assassination attempt and Releena was almost killed when the Senate hall was destroyed by an unknown terrorist in Cobalt's employ.

Shortly after Duo constructed a new Gundam of his own, named Deathscythe Vengeance, from materials taken from his ersatz employer, the battle began. Duo ended the battle by grabbing hold of Cobalt's Gundam with his own and pressing the self-destruct button. Duo Maxwell was listed Missing in Action and presumed dead.

______________________________________________________________________________

twenty years later…

****

1

An icy wind swept across the frozen plain. Gray clouds swirled over head and threatened rain. A broken factory loomed out of the gloom. The walls were made of rusted corrugated steel. The roof was holed and the wind whistled through the cracks, like the wail of some dying demon.

The factory's only remaining door was a huge affair. It was mounted on rails and most closely resembled a hanger door from a bygone era. A faded symbol dominated its surface. A gigantic red star. Beneath it were faded letters in a dead language. Once upon a time they had proclaimed the site's identity:

****

St. Petersburg Facility for the Production of Soviet Armaments

In this day and age, this meant almost nothing. Perhaps there were a few history scholars who recognized the significance, but would regard it as only a minor reference to a subject they had studied. There was a time, however, when this meant something, when it had significance. There was a time when this meant triumph for half of the world, and terror for the other.

The facility's insides did not match its exterior. It was filled with gleaming machinery and well-oiled conveyer belts. A cargo skiff was waiting in a concealed loading dock. Its pilot waited nervously while the factory's automated processes loaded his craft. 

He didn't know what was in the crates. He didn't care beyond the fact that he knew that if the Preventers caught him hauling the stuff, he would be in _very_ serious trouble. He rubbed his hands together and tried to settle his nerves. All he had to do was get them to the spaceport and whatever the hell it was would be shipped off to wherever it was supposed to go. then he could get paid, feed his family, and pray he never got called by those strangers in black coats again. He sighed. That last, he reflected, was highly unlikely.

A light pinged to life on his dashboard. Everything was ready. Rubbing his hands together one last time, he glanced through the rear view port to ensure the loading dock was clear. Then he grabbed the altitude adjustment shaft and hauled back roughly. There was a cough from the engine followed by a low hum. The ungainly craft kicked upward, surrounded by a wreath of dust from the repulsor-lift backwash, to reach its maximum cruising height of one meter.

One last check of the gauges in the utilitarian cockpit satisfied the pilot that there were no problems. He wrestled with the control yoke until the craft was oriented towards the road and the distant city beyond. Then he pulled the throttle slowly to the half power mark and kicked the accelerator. The skiff burst forward with a roar and careened toward the distant sky-line of St. Petersburg.

* * *

Two days later, on a dusty airstrip in Cairo, an ancient, propeller-driven cargo plain buzzed in for a landing. Rusted and archaic machinery helped it to taxi and began unloading its cargo. 

One such loader received a hefty pile of twenty industrial crates. Each of these was a large wooden box, nailed shut and stuffed with packing material. The loader made its way down the runway and drew level with a parked tractor trailer. 

A man leaped out of the giant truck's cab and jogged across the fiery asphalt. The loader operator dropped to the ground to meet him. By now, two more men had emerged from the eighteen wheeler's cabin and were coming up to join the first man.

The operator spoke first. "Cargo Lot 87659. this one yours?"

The man nodded, "It should be. Dimmetri, check it."

A tall man who looked even more uncomfortable in the blistering heat than his companions hauled himself up onto the loader's bed. He bent down to scrutinize the label of the first crate. "It's in Russian." He called down. "Trying to translate it now."

The loader's operator gave the first man a quizzical look. "Russian? What's that?"

The man gave a faint smile. "Dead language."

"Ah." The operator nodded to show that he understood, though he clearly didn't.

Dimmetri stood. "It's what we came for." He called down again.

The first man smiled, then turned to the operator. "Where do I sign?"

The operator handed him a Palm Pilot and a stylus. "What's all this stuff for, a museum?"

The first man gave him a sour look. "More questions mean less tip."

"Ah, yes, of course. None of my business." the operator agreed hastily.

"Remember that." the man said with a thin smile before scratching his signature across the Palm Pilot's surface. He then held it out for the other man to take.

"Thank you sir." The operator said as he reached for the device. He jumped, startled, as Dimmetri dropped lightly to the ground beside him. Unnerved, he ran a quick check of the signature. "Everything uh…" a nervous glance at Dimmetri, "everything seems fine sir."

The man nodded. "Bring the loader to the back of the truck." The operator nodded and scrambled up to the control seat.

The loader coughed to life and backed up slowly. The operator spun the wheel and expertly brought it to line up perfectly with the open back of the trailer. He punched another button and the wheels locked. He then swung around in his seat and began operating a set of levers. The cargo platform rose on hydraulic pistons until it was level with the floor of the trailer. Another lever pull and the platform slid easily into the waiting space. Then the loader pulled away, leaving the crates stacked neatly at the back of the cargo space.

The operator brought the loader back onto the run-way and then scrambled down again. "Sir you need to sign again."

"What?" the man looked up.

The operator nodded. "Yes sir. It's a liability waiver. Any damage to your freight from this point on is not the responsibility of Global Enterprises' Shipping Concern or the Cairo Inter-continental airfield."

"All right." the man grumbled as he took the proffered Palm Pilot. He noticed that the operator's finger just happened to be pointing to a box at the bottom of the screen labeled "Service Charge". He snorted and scrawled his signature in the indicated box. Then he tapped an inordinately high number in the tips box. In the comments box beneath that, he scrawled: _Silence is golden._

He handed the Palm back to the operator with a smirk. The operator's eyes widened slightly. Then he gave his best approximation of a salute and jumped back into his loader.

The man waited till the loader was well on its way before turning to his companions. "All right. Dimmetri, get the camouflage nets, Derrick, help him."

The two men nodded and headed for the back of the truck. The first man hopped back into the truck's cabin and pulled a concealed screen from under the dash board. On it he flicked a switch labeled **Cargo Scan Masker** to on. Then he re-concealed the panel and headed for the back. Now, if they were scanned at a checkpoint, they would appear to be hauling a few crates of preserved food. If Derrick and Dimmetri did their jobs right, a cursory visual inspection would confirm that fact.

He entered the back of the truck just in time to see his two companions pulling a sheet of what looked like super thick Seran Wrap taut over the pile of crates. It fit snugly against the bottom of the pile. Dimmetri thumbed a switch on the wall. The wrap glowed faintly for a moment, then seemed to disappear. At first glance the crates seemed the same. However, now each of them bore the seal of a dried food manufacturer on its side.

The man smiled briefly before jumping to the ground and beckoning for his companions to join him. "All right, good work. One last check, everyone have their Jordanian passports and working papers?" He held out a sheaf of expertly forged identification papers and nodded as the other two men produced similar packets.

"Very well. Lets go." All three headed for the cabin and piled in. The eighteen-wheeler spun around and headed for the road. On their way from the airfield, they passed a sign that read: 

****

Jordan Sector Border - 300 kilometers

* * *

Sally Poe sat in her booth at Preventer headquarters and watched the alert board idly. It was nearing three in the morning and there had been no alerts for two weeks. _I hope Wuffie hasn't waited up. He knew I had graveyard shift._ Sally smiled as she thought of her husband. Knowing him, he'd be along shortly with a cup of tea.

She almost didn't notice when the incoming transmission light beeped to life. "Huh? At this hour?" she murmured to herself. She flicked the accept switch. Static appeared on her screen. A mechanical voice repeated a pre recorded message:

"four-seven-six… transmission on encrypted line E-three-T-nine-four-seven-six… transmission on encrypted line E-three-T-nine…"

Sally looked at the comm in surprise and blinked a few times to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

"encrypted line E-three-T-nine-four-seven-six… transmission on…" The message repeated ceaselessly.

Sally clicked the respond button. "This is Water using secret line R to respond." Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she entered the command code. The message stopped its repetition and for a moment there was no sound but the hiss of static. No image appeared on the screen but a voice did issue from the speaker.

"Do the preventers still put out fires?"

_Huh?_ Sally thought to herself. This wasn't anything close to what might be considered normal protocol. The term "put out fires" had been used by the preventers to describe themselves within the organization. That slang, however, had not been used since the very early days of the organization.

"This is Water. Follow standard transmission protocol or prepare to have line terminated."

The voice did not sound disturbed by this prospect as it repeated. "Do the preventers still put out fires?"

_What the hell is up with this guy?_ Now that she though about it, she realized that the secret line he was transmitting on was extremely old. It had been discontinued shortly after the end of Marimaia Wars.

"Do the preventers still put out fires?"

Sally Poe ground her teeth. _I might as well see what he wants._ "Yes, we put out fires."

A pause. Probably a transmission lag. He must be transmitting from very far away indeed. "Good. Old coals are being slowly kindled."

"What?" Sally drew back momentarily. "What do you mean?"

Again, the voice refused a straight answer. "Beneath the baking desert sun, the dove of peace is hunted. The flames grow larger with each passing dawn and soon all may be consumed. Only if Earth, Water, Wind, and Fire band together once more may this coal be silenced from its smoldering."

Sally shook her head. "Speak sense damnit! Follow protocol or prepare to have this line terminated."

After the appropriate lag: "Two days ago a intercontinental shipment plane delivered a package to Cairo. It was then smuggled across the Jordanian border by way of a delivery truck. It is now en-route to a dessert enclave. I do not know the location. You must find it soon. The fox has spied the dove."

Sally was now fully bewildered. But she took accurate note of the strange informant's information. "Who are you?"

The lag went on so long she feared he had cut the line. Then finally: "I am a shade of what has been. Leave the ghosts to themselves. Only the dove of peace and her rose matter now."

Then, only static.

_What the hell?_

She heard the door hiss open behind her. She spun, startled, to face the visitor. Wuffie gave her a slightly bemuse smile. "What's wrong?"

Sally shook her head. "I just got an incredibly odd message. He asked if we still put out fires."

Wuffie handed her a steaming cup of green tea. He then popped the transmission log disk from its holder and spun it in his hand. "I'll give this to Trent. He's been bored out of his mind, it'll give him something to do."

"Right."

"Will everything be all right?"

Sally looked distant for a moment as her mind drifted back across memories of battle and pain. "Lord, I hope so. Oh Lord, how I hope."


	2. Among the Shadows

Deep within the bowels of the Preventer's headquarters was the labyrinthine set of corridors and server rooms that made up the Preventer database 

Deep within the bowels of the Preventer's headquarters was the labyrinthine set of corridors and server rooms that made up the Preventer database. The hallways were cramped and difficult to navigate. Lighting was poor and it was easy to become lost if you did not know where you were going. Thus it was jokingly dubbed the pit of despair by the technicians who were its regular inhabitants and the agents who were forced to descend into its confines when they needed the unfiltered resources of the system.

Preventer Agent Trent Jacobs was at home within these dim confines. He was an expert code analyzer as well as a retired pilot. He had defected to the preventers during the end of the Cobalt crisis, bearing crucial information that had turned the battle in the preventers' favor. After a tour of active duty as a pilot, he had transferred to technical where his natural aptitude with hardware and his above average IQ had led to several swift promotions.

Now he lay on his back under a server bank and examined the tangled mess of wire from the glow of a pen-light clenched between his teeth. Experimentally, he tapped one of the wire with a solder iron. It hissed angrily and dropped sparks onto the patient technician. The instrument panel flickered to life and the server began to hum as it resumed normal operation.

Trent slid out from under the bank and found himself staring up at the shadowy silhouette that could only belong to his boss. Chang Wuffie dropped a disk which Trent deftly caught. Trent rolled to the side and turned to face Wuffie. "What's this?"

"Sally received a strange message this morning. That's the message log with the conversation. I want a voice match."

Trent nodded. "Any idea how wide a search to use?"

Wuffie looked a tad bewildered. "Huh?"

Trent stood up, twirling the disk in his fingers. "Well, if we know we're looking for a Preventer, let's say, or a member of the government, It would be simple, I could use one of the upstairs units to get a match. If you want me to search the rest of the banks," Trent shrugged, "well that could take days and I'd have to spend them all in the central archive room."

Wuffie looked pensive. "We don't know where to start searching."

"Damnit. If that's the case, I might even have to go into the old Oz files we captured, check their databases as well. Hell, I might even be forced to break out those Barton foundation files we seized, _encrypted_, I might add, and check against those."

Wuffie did not appear to approve.

Trent gave him a helpless look and twirled the disk again. "Minimum, one week, and that's with no sleep _and_ my own archive block."

Wuffie merely nodded. "Fine."

Trent sighed. "Glad you agree." _So much for sleep. God bless coffee._

* * *

Releena Darlain Yui sat behind her cumbersomely large desk and stared pensively out of her ridiculously large window. _Screw proper manners_, she thought with an ironic smile. She leaned back and put her feet up on the expensive mahogany surface. Piles of important documents and mail littered her desk and her computer monitor stood ready, displaying her half completed Senate address.

An overly flourishing tone sounded at her door. The small security intercom on her arm chair growled, "He's clear."

Releena sighed and swung her legs back down under the desk. After smoothing her blouse and composing her face into an appropriately regal expression, she spoke. "Yes? Please enter."

The expensive oak door opened to permit a brown haired man dressed in a dark brown suit. His wild brown hair had been combed a bit and his eyes glinted happily. Releena immediately dropped the regal expression and replaced it with one of surprised delight. "Heero! I didn't expect to see you today!" In her mind she thought, _Damn secret service. They actually had to clear my own husband!_

Heero smiled ruefully. "They took my gun."

Releena burst out laughing. She came swiftly around her mammoth desk and embraced her husband. "I wouldn't need security if I had you here all the time."

Heero shook his head, "But then you'd never get any work done."

Releena laughed again, then rested her head on his shoulder. "If you keep bringing your gun here, you're going to get into trouble."

Heero pulled away from her with a smile. "I know. Come on, let's get lunch somewhere we can talk."

Releena looked back her desk with worry. "Heero, I wish I could but the Senate Address-"

"Is three days away." Heero said firmly. "You've been working yourself too hard lately and deserve an hour of relaxation."

The ironic smile returned to Releena's face. "Yes sir, mission accepted."

Now it was Heero's turn to laugh, though there was something a kin to sadness in his eyes for a brief moment. Then he smiled and took her arm, "Right this way my dear."

As they departed from her office, they entered the main corridor of the Presidential wing. The bombed out Peacecraft estate had been restored into a senate hall and several new modern wings had been added to house the rest of the government's upper hierarchy. Plush red carpet covered the floor and expensive portraits covered the walls. Passing aids nodded in greeting. Releena's press secretary hurried up to meet her. "Madame President, Mister Yui-"

Releena shook her head, "Not now Frank."

Frank frowned, "Madame, this is rather important-"

"Frank, I'm on lunch break, no shop-talk."

"Releena, we're trying to pass a unilateral disarmament bill, you can't just-"

Releena pulled up short and swiveled to face Frank. "Not now.'

The press secretary scowled. "Ma'am, it's an election year, the Defense league is looking for any excuse they can get to take a shot at us, the Colonial party's got a majority in both the upper and lower senate, and the Senate Address is only-"

"No."

"But-"

"Listen Frank, I'm going to be back in my office, at my desk, in one hour. At that point, I will deal with whatever our newest crisis is. Until that point, I will be having lunch with my husband. Understood?"

Frank hung his head in defeat. "Yes ma'am. Enjoy your lunch."

Heero and Releena made their way, uninterrupted, to the executive dining room. It bustled with staffers and aids, all of whom were chatting quietly amongst themselves. Releena led Heero to her private table which overlooked the well manicured Peacecraft lawns. The attendant secret service agents who had been following silently since Releena had left her office detached themselves discreetly and took seats at nearby tables with good vantage points of all the entrances.

Releena clasped her hands in front of her as the waiter scurried forward to take their order. He was soon gone, promising to return soon with drinks. Releena turned her attention back to her husband. "All right, Heero, out with it."

"Hn?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Come on, You didn't just come here to take me to lunch and since you haven't brought up whatever it is that's bothering you directly, I have to assume it's bad."

Heero took a sip of water. "Not bad, just troubling."

_Ah ha!_ Releena thought triumphantly. _He should no better than to try and avoid a subject when he's talking to a diplomat. Especially when it's the diplomat he lives with!_ "Well what's the matter?"

"Sally called."

A bit of color drained from Releena's face. "Oh."

Heero nodded. "And it wasn't a social call either."

"And since she didn't call me through Preventer lines, I can only assume…" Releena trailed off.

Heero nodded grimly. "Right, she thinks it's personal."

"How personal?"

"'The fox has spied the dove.' She got that from a very cryptic message warning of potentially dangerous situation in Jordan."

"Jordan?" Releena looked startled.

"Yes, why?" Heero looked at his wife curiously.

"Quatre called me a few days ago. You knew about his business trip to Jordan right?"

Heero nodded.

"Well," Releena continued. "He called me when he got back and told me that tension is very high in that region. He said someone might be stirring up trouble, he seemed really worried."

Heero looked down at his place mat. "I can't blame him."

Releena sighed. "Neither can I"

* * *

__

Interlude 1

Dekim was fool.

Worse yet, he was an arrogant fool. His plan for domination could have been flawless. But he cut too many corners, trusted too many outsiders, and worst of all, got too greedy too soon. The Barton foundation, more importantly, the Barton family_ could have swept aside all opposition easily. But instead, Dekim made a number of irreparable mistakes at absolutely critical times._

Mistake number one: Gundam scientists. He should have expected such eccentric and brilliant minds to rebel against his plan. He gave them the resources to single-handedly destroy his plans. His own schematics would have sufficed perfectly, and foundation scientists could have ensured completion of his plan long before any of his enemies could amass forces to stop him.

Mistake number two: Trieze Kushrenada. He should have recognized the fact that Trieze was far too smart to be a pawn in any of Dekim's little games. Dekim also should have recognized that Trieze had plans of his own for the Earth Sphere. Simply speaking, Trieze should have been eliminated before he could gather enough of a following to be dangerous.

Mistake number three: Romafeller. Dekim could have had a much better time if he had attempted to ingratiate himself into that society of aristocratic half-wits. He would have found it easy to pull strings since ambitious and lethal people thrived in Romafeller.

Mistake number four: Quinze/White Fang. Getting himself involved in an ideal driven society such as White Fang was guaranteed to cause problems. He should have expected that in the end, Quinze would never have the stomach to go through with something as brutal as Operation: Meteor.

Mistake number five: Marimaia Kushrenada. The fatal mistake. By manipulating Trieze's daughter and revealing himself, he made himself a target and thus doomed himself to failure. The Gundam pilots were finally given a tangible way to go after the one who had so perverted their lives. There was no possible way for him to survive.

But now, after the world has forgotten, I will bring power back to my family. I've been forced to change my name and hide, but now I'm finally ready to began. Operation: Meteor will be carried out to the fullest extent of its original perimeters. And no one, not even the scientist, ever knew what that would entail.

I will have control, and I have my fool of an uncle to thank for it. Funny how the universe works.


	3. First Contact

A shimmering cacophony of stars reached into the endless abyss 

A shimmering cacophony of stars reached into the endless abyss. The sky was painted with shimmering diamonds and the cool mountain air teased briskly at Sally's long coat. A shooting star streaked a fiery trail across the heavens. _Shooting star or battle wreckage?_ Sally wondered bitterly. Lake Victoria stretched away, lit softly in the moon light. Behind her, the base continued its business in muted fashion. From the bridge it appeared to be a cozy small town.

Her mind played back the conversation of two nights before.

_"Old coals are being stoked…"_

"What do you mean?"

"Beneath the baking desert sun, the dove of peace is hunted."

"Who are you?"

"I am a shade of what has been…"

Sally shook her head in frustration. _But what the hell does it mean?_ She leaned forward against the railing of the wooden bridge.

The voice reminded her of someone she had known long before. But the image brought to mind by the voice was not the cheerful boy she had met. It was instead a young man who's hair was cut raggedly short and who's eyes and voice carried the bitterness of becoming a widower at nineteen.

The comm-link on her lapel buzzed.

"Sally."

"Sally, we need you back here, pronto." An excited voice told her.

"Trent? What is it?"

"Just get back here, it's impossible, but I can't find any other explanations. Wuffie's all ready on his way."

Sally nodded though she knew she could not be seen. "Right, I'm on my way."

Sally took one last look across the shimmering moonlit waters. Then she turned back towards the base and hurried away.

She had no way to know that the next time she stood on that bridge, she'd be looking at a wasteland.

* * *

On the outer edge of the asteroid belt was humanity's last outpost. It was an aging and decrepit station, all but forgotten by the space forces and government. It was home to four men and three women. Each of them was an outcast, relegated to the most barren post in the known universe as punishment for repeated and unforgivable offenses.

On this pitiful, airless hunk of rock they eked out a pathetic existence and monitored the deep-space relays. They didn't do the jobs because they wanted to, or because they felt any desire to repent. It was just that, well, there was nothing else _to_ do. So they carried out their miserable and lonely mission and counted down the days until their shift ended and they could return to something approaching civilization.

The closest thing to recreation room on the station was a tiny lounge on the observation bubble. The graceful dome of super thick glass displayed a breathtaking vista of the vastness of space. Small asteroids drifted by and Jupiter was visible as an orange dot slightly larger than the surrounding stars on the lower left. The only problem with the view was the fact that it got old rather fast.

Senior commander (an officious and meaningless title given purely because of seniority) Gloval Graham stared resentfully out at the stars. In his hand he clutched a Styrofoam cup of bitter re-processed coffee. _The food gets worse and worse as it gets closer to time for the supply convoy to get here. The air gets stale, the coffee bitter, and we, we get down right brutal to each other._ _Of course it doesn't help when the damn shipment is two weeks late!_ The thought that they had finally been forgotten and abandoned crossed his mind again as it had many times over the past few weeks.

Junior commander (another meaningless title) Jennessa Wells walked into the room. Her brown hair framed her pretty face and a mischievous smile lit her expression. Gloval pretended not to notice.

"What is it?" He rumbled dryly.

Jennessa poked her tongue out for a moment. "Mmm, you're no fun!"

Gloval made a vague gesture that encompassed all of the station around them. "Nothing in this tin can is fun."

The mischievous smile returned. She sauntered slyly up to the table and leaned forward. Gloval pasted an expression of gruff disapproval onto his face. "Hardly regulation uniform there, don't you think?"

She leaned forward even farther, giving Gloval a very ample view of her very ample cleavage. It was most certainly _not_ a regulation uniform. "But," she purred, "You said there was nothing fun on this station." She traced her fingers teasingly across his shirt. "I'm just trying to prove you wrong…"

As she leaned across the table to kiss him, the universe outside the observation bubble exploded. Light washed across the bubble of glass and the entire asteroid rumbled as it was hit by an unseen shock-wave. An indistinct shape glowed violently and burned rapidly past the observation bubble, searing their eyes as it headed towards Earth. Bits of rock broke away from the edges of the viewport and could be seen tumbling lazily into the void.

Jennessa found herself thrown into Gloval's arms, but all feints at romance were now forgotten. "What the hell was that?" she asked.

Gloval didn't pay her much attention. He shoved her off and shouted hoarsely into his comm-link. "Rand! You'd better have been watching your screen or I swear to God I'll kill you!" He turned to Jennessa. "Command deck, now."

Jennessa shot him a sour look as she collected herself on the floor. "Yes Sir." She mumbled sarcastically.

It took Gloval all of thirty seconds to scramble down the central ladder into the command pod. Rand Daubson, the on-duty sensor watch looked shaken. Gloval hit the deck yelling. "All right Rand, what in Yui's grave was that?'

Rand shook his head. "I've got no fucking clue. Take a look at this replay. The three of them clustered around the small monitor and Tina, the comm officer, came to join them. 

Rand's hands flew over the keys. "Okay, first I'll show you the farthest proximity sensors we have. It's the only way I saw the first part."

The screen focused on the lower left corner. It zoomed until Jupiter was a large blurry haze at the end of the screen. Suddenly, a million new stars blossomed into being, appearing simultaneously before dimming again.

Gloval leaned even further forward. "What the hell?"

"Oh it gets better sir." Rand shook his head. "Here's the immediate proximity monitor."

The view cut to static and resolved itself to show the view from the relative top of the asteroid. Stars, then…

A hole of pure light ripped its way into the very fabric of time and space. Impossible, a complete rebellion against physics, and yet completely undeniable. First, there was a flash, then the golden light opened like a giant crocus and _something_ burst out. There was an impression of gracefully arched bows, a fluted neck, and four sweeping wings. But it was gone to fast. Far faster than the camera could track. 

Then there was nothing left of the hole in space or the ship, if that was what it was, except a stinging sensation in their eyes.

"Should I play it back sir?"

"No, Tina, get on the horn to Earthsphere command, tell them something's comin' and it's comin' fast."

"Yes sir."

Gloval stared hard at the screen. "I don't know what the hell we just saw but I hope to hell we never see it again.

* * *

Trowa Barton glanced across the shuttle at his sister Catherine. She was looking distantly out of her view port. The private shuttle was luxuriously appointed as was befitting for the brother and sister executive team for the most popular traveling circus in the Earth Sphere.

Over the years, Trowa had mellowed but still found it difficult to show emotion. the experience of becoming a mercenary at the age of eight weighed heavily on his mind and he was still sometimes haunted by flash backs and memories.

He turned back to his own window. The earth appeared to be a blue and green sphere and powdery white clouds dusted the stratosphere. 

"Trowa?"

"Hmm?" Trowa turned to see his sister looking concerned across the isle.

She turned back to the viewport. "Come here. What is that?"

Trowa quickly crossed and looked out her view port. There was a bright flash and it was getting rapidly larger.

larger…

larger?

_Larger! Oh Shit!_ Trowa whirled around and looked toward the cockpit, all the while knowing it was too late. Ignoring his instinct, he lunged at the intercom. "Captain, evasive lateral north!"

Without question, the captain began to respond. But it was too late, far too late. In the time it had taken Trowa to lunge at the intercom, the thing was upon them. The light became blinding and it seemed the thing passed just beneath their keel. Trowa turned to the Earth side viewport in time to see the thing searing its way into the atmosphere. It almost seemed to be slowing, but could not overcome its own momentum. 

The back of Trowa's mind connected the spatial view of the coastlines with his knowledge of terrestrial geography. _That's headed straight for Lake Victoria. What the hell is going on?_

"Sir?" The captain looked through his hatch.

Trowa turned away from the viewport, even though in his peripheral vision he could still see the diminishing light as it sped uncontrollably towards the surface. "What?"

"It only missed us by two hundred meters sir. But there was some good news."

"What?"

"It was small, only a bit larger than this ship."

Catherine had tears of fear and worry in her eyes. "well that's not going to be much comfort to whoever it hits."

* * *

Sally entered the room on Wuffie's heels. Trent looked exhausted but had a huge smile plastered on his face.

Sally stopped inside the door and stood, arms akimbo. "Well?"

Trent held up the log disk. "I think I found your mystery caller."

Wuffie nodded. "And?"

Trent's expression flattened. "And, it's impossible."

"What?" Sally leaned forward. "What do you mean impossible?"

"I found a match in Cobalt's files."

"Who? Are we about to nail a higher up?'

Trent shook his head. "Nope, we're about to nail a dead guy."

"Huh?" Wuffie looked annoyed. "Just tell us who it was."

"Right. We have a ninety seven percent match on a one Squadron Commander Drake Walker."

Sally gasped. "No! That just can't be. You know that can't be."

Trent nodded grimly. "You're telling me."

Sally shook her head. "But if you got a match on _Drake Walker_, then you really mean we have a match on _Duo Maxwell_!"

Wuffie pounded his fist on a monitor. "Impossible. We all saw Maxwell die. We _know _he was in that suit when he blew Cobalt to Hell!"

Sally opened her mouth to say something but was cut short by a blaring base siren. "THIS IS NOT A DRILL! ALL HANDS BRACE FOR IMPACT!

"What the-"

"Get down Sally!" Wuffie leapt towards his wife and brought her to the floor.

With and earth-shattering crash, the entire building rocked on its foundations. The lights cut out as the facility was buffeted by shock waves.

Then there was silence. Sally curled up in Wuffie's arms and rocked back and forth. "Shh," he murmured, "It's all right. We're going to be all right."

* * *

__

Interlude 2

The Earthsphere is ripe for domination. The government is fractured in political in-fighting and the preventers have grown to few to deal with any credible threat. I still find it ironic that after all these years, I_, the black sheep of the family, will be carrying out Dekim's plot._

I must admit, he laid the groundwork beautifully. Thanks to my uncle's preparations, there is very little that must be done. In this instance, I will have no need to drop a colony. The destruction that Dekim hoped to cause with that will be admirably handled by other elements. 

Then, it will all rely on the carefully preserved copy of the original Gundam schematic, the one Dekim himself designed and that the scientist couldn't stomach. It's a type of warfare the Earth and its people will have no experience with. even the pilots have grown too old to stop me.

So now, I must wait just a bit longer for the pieces to fall into place, then, it will be time for Earth to meet my uncle's vision and my key to domination.

Gundam Plaguescythe.

* * *

Central control tower; Lake Victoria Base.

The controller shook his head and turned to the watch commander. "What the hell was that?'

The commander shook his head. "That boys, may be what we like to call 'first contact.'"


	4. Five hours past impact: Crisis Point

Lake Victoria had been almost instantly transformed from a beautiful and massive lake to a steaming, muddy crater. At almost the center of the lake was a hulking, twisted spire of metal. Its graceful form had been destroyed beyond recognition. The fluted neck had been compressed and the drive spires and been pushed into the engine compartment. two off the graceful wings had been shorn off completely during the ship's uncontrolled descent. The other two had been twisted and melted by the heat friction of the fall.

The pilot and crew had been killed, and the ship registered this fact. Commands began to stream through the no longer functioning psi-link controllers.

_Blethrow nassadi am kendri _(Crew is now dead) _Feirwashi Pfescaltin huksre ingatiton_ (Final protocols now commencing)

The leaking coolant from the drive spires began to gush faster, flooding the chamber. Chain reactions began to pick up pace in the small scale fusion generator. The engine casing began to glow, first red, then yellow, and finally white. The heat expanded outward and the metal surrounding the engine. Soon the entire ship seemed to be made of light and the temperature began to rise. Mud was baked to clay in instants, air bubbles within the mud expanded and exploded, throwing slabs and shards of clay into the air.

From the observation tower and from the surveillance plane overhead, the ship began to resemble a spire of pure star-light. The sensor officer looked up in alarm and turned to the pilot. "Holy shit sir, it's still getting hotter, that thing's gonna take half the lake-bed with it when it goes!"

The pilot nodded, "Tower, this is Hawk-eye 9, position has become hazardous, going evasive."

The comm crackled, "Copy Hawk-eye 9, cleared for evasive."

The pilot, who had not bothered to wait for confirmation of his orders, (_survive now, court-martial later, eh?_) threw the heavy tailed plane into a desperate climb. 

An edge of panic began to creep into sensor officer's voice. "Captain!"

"What?" The pilot snapped as he attempted to send his lumbering craft even higher.

"We need to get away from the epicenter _now_!"

"Got it, hang on!" The captain yanked the yoke down and to the right. The plane began to peel off towards the base.

But it was too late.

Far too late.

Eight point seven seconds too late, to be exact.

A spire of pure white light and burning heat lanced upward from the center off the craft. It missed the plane by several meters but the wash of superheated air that surrounded it blistered the paint from the metal frame. The plane leveled off and began to flee towards the base, but the beam of light was rapidly expanding.

"Tower, this is Hawk-eye 9, Get the hell out of there!"

An evac-alert siren began to howl throughout the base.

FWOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The wall off light exploded outward. It consumed the surveillance plane in an instant and the metal walls of the plane were instantly atomized. "Oh my goaaaahhhhhhhh!" In the tower, a final scream resounded across the comm line, but there was no one there to hear it as technicians had all ready begun to pour down the stairwells and out of the building. The scream changed pitch and became a static filled whine as the line was destroyed.

Then, the expanding mass of energy began to slow, slow and falter. It ground to a halt almost halfway to shore and began to flicker. The glow began to subside and disappeared.

The last technician out of the tower turned towards the screens. "Um guys," he called. "I think it's done." 

* * *

Quatre Rabberba Winner knew of the "attack" an hour after the ship had hit. The general public knew nothing of the incident, as it had occurred on a secluded military base. Quatre however, was anything but the general public, and his lines of communication were definitely not ordinary.

Another hour after receiving word, the billionaire executive found himself being herded onto an military speed transport. One hour after that, he found himself stepping onto the hardened tarmac of Lake Victoria's air strip. The wind had picked up viciously and night had fallen. The temperature had dropped and Quatre sourly reflected that the military escorts had not even given him enough time to grab a jacket.

A woman in a cold weather parka came rushing across the field towards him. He raced to meet her, hopping that he could retain some circulation in his all ready freezing limbs. As he approached her, a smile blossomed on her face. He opened his arms wide and embraced her.

"Noin! How have you been?"

Noin smiled back and shook her head wearily. "Just fine Quatre, thank you for coming on such short notice."

Quatre nodded. "How's Zechs doing?"

Noin laughed, "Just as well as always. Seems like he hasn't aged a day!"

Quatre laughed, "I can believe that, we should all be so lucky!"

Noin nodded, but sobered quickly. "Well, anyway, you need to be briefed."

Quatre drew up short, despite the biting chill. "Why?"

"What?" Noin turned her confused gaze upon him.

Quatre looked at her fiercely. "I mean it. Why me? I'm a forty year old business man and a pacifist to boot, why in the world would you want to brief me on an attack?"

Noin began to walk again, forcing Quatre to follow. "Because you are a Gundam pilot."

"Noin, the Gundams are ghosts twenty years dead. And I'm just a businessman now."

Noin shook her head as they drew closer to the command post bunker. "It wasn't the Gundams Quatre, you know that even if you don't want to accept it."

Quatre nodded slowly. "Yes, I guess I do, lets get in, I'm cold."

"Right."

* * *

The briefing room was massive, but there were only a few people in it. Quatre took a seat next to Trowa at the mahogany table that had replaced the podium at the front of the amphitheater. Wuffie and Sally sat at the head of the table along with Zechs. Noin hurried to take the chair waiting for her next to her husband. There was an air of waiting in the air and the non-military members of the meeting shifted uncomfortably.

Then the sound of booted feet marching in lock step penetrated the thick door. The door opened grandly and a herald and honor guard entered. A herald stepped forward. "Announcing the President of the United-"

A flustered looking woman in a dress suit pushed her way through the honor guard. "They know who I am Lewis!" 

The head guard stepped forward. "Ma'am, we need to clear the chamber first."

The woman shook her blonde hair angrily. "It's the Gundam pilots and the leaders of the preventers, no secret service! Come on Heero. The rest of you, out now!"

The guard opened his mouth to complain but seemed to recognize the hopelessness of the argument. The honor guard spun on their heels and marched out of the room. Releena and Heero strode swiftly across the room to take their places along the table.

Sally had a ghost of a smile flitting across her features. "Are you always so adept with the help?"

Releena shot her a rather sour look, "The 'help' can be a bit trying after a time."

Wuffie nodded curtly. "Right, let's get down to business."

Sally stood and pointed to the screen which showed the view from a surveillance plane that was circling the impact crater from a more conservative distance than the first had. "At approximately 1635 hours United National Earthsphere Space Force relay and observation outpost YTL-70999 filed a report of numerous anomalous readings followed by a near miss by what they believed was some sort of ship. The anomaly entered the Earthsphere sensor zone only twenty minutes later, showing that the object was moving at incredible velocity. It then entered the Earth's atmosphere and impacted the with the surface at 1701 hours. Less than half an hour after it was first detected."

Her audience looked stunned. Heero smirked in a shallow, oh-dear-god-this-sucks-but-we-gotta-try-and-be-funny sort of way. "By incredible velocity, I assume you mean-"

"She means," a voice drawled from the upper tiers of the amphitheater, "damned chicken shit fast." Heero whirled around reaching for the gun that the secret service hadn't allowed him to wear in the presence of his wife for two years.

"Who the hell?"

Sally gave a brittle smile. "Get down here Derek, these are not the guys to fuck with."

A deep laugh boomed from the shadows above them. "Listen Sal, I was shootin guns and screamin orders when these babes were sucking their missions out of a bottle." A burly shape resolved from the shadows, wreathed in musky cigar smoke.

Zechs growled, "You know you can't smoke in here."

The man grinned as he came fully into the light. His bald head shone dully in the light of the projection screen. He had a pig-like expression and his eyes shone malignantly from within his fat features. "You always were a piss assed liddle bitch."

Wuffie glowered at him. "How did you get in here? This is a secure briefing."

Derek made a vague gesture with his cigar, causing smoke to snake and waft in a halo about his head, "New doors don't beat old tricks. And the oldest is simply to wait in the dark until they think the room is empty and lock the door. You're security could use a bit of a whompin'."

Noin shot him an icy look, "Security's your department."

Derek gave another chuckle, "So it is, guess I gave my boys a bit of a slip now didn't I?"

Zechs placed a calming hand on Wuffie's shoulder. "All right, Derek, best case scenario; you get the hell out of here now, along with anyone and anything you've brought with you and we'll bargain on your court-martial, worst case scenario; Wuffie shoots you where you stand."

Derek ignored this last and turned to Releena and Heero. "Awfully nice to meet you folks, I'm afraid I've just about flubbed the proper introduction, what with my rude colleagues and all." He extended a meaty hand towards Releena. "You of course are her Queen-ship President Darlain, and I," he cast a insolent look at Zechs, "am General Derek Redman Duke. General at least, until Zechs here finally gets his way and kicks me out of the service entirely."

Releena shook his hand firmly with a guarded look. "You can't be here." It was a statement, not a question. 

Duke let out a braying laugh. "I would be sorely tempted to reconsider if I was you ma'am. Seein' as I'm just about as close as you're gonna get to a security advisor in this whole mess."

Wuffie slammed his hand down onto the table, "What the hell are you implying, you rusted old battle hog!" 

Those southern cross, blue bombardier eyes turned balefully towards the Chinese pilot. "You may be good at startin' revolutions boy, but you and you're friends don't know pissed shit about stoppin' an invasion."

Noin cleared her throat and cocked an eyebrow. "Cobalt?"

"Was an ass." Duke ground out flatly.

Sally put up her hands in a placating manner. "All right, everybody sit down, you too Duke. Honest to god, Une leaves for two days on a routine check mission and you all start bickering like fools. We've got a god-damn briefing to conduct."

They looked in surprise at the angry agent's blazing eyes. When they had all seated and, after a particularly baleful look on Sally's part, Duke had extinguished his cigar, she began again. "Thus far, the incident has only resulted in three deaths, the crew of Hawk-eye 9 aerial surveillance unit. There is even a possibility that these deaths were accidental.

"The facts as they stand thus far are; We confirmed one anomaly, believed to a ninety percent probability to be a ship, said anomaly impacted the Earth's surface two and a half kilometers from the perimeter of this base."

Heero nodded, "Let's drop the 'presume' and say that we have a ship here, an alien ship. This thing was small, presumably a scout."

Duke grinned broadly, "Someone up there fucked up."

Zechs tossed him an irritated glare. "What?'

"Someone screwed up, pretty big too, was going too fast, blew past the rendezvous and couldn't slow it's ass down enough to stop from slamming down in our front yard."

Wuffie nodded. "That would make sense. The station reports that from the Earth, the rendezvous point of the other anomalies would be hidden by Jupiter's mass shadow."

Quatre shook his head. "I think it was an attack, look how close it came to destroying the base. Perhaps they messed up, but only in that they missed."

Duke snorted with contempt. "And I thought you Gundam boys was up to par on combat protocol."

Noin took a more helpful approach. "Well Quatre, that tactic would destroy any element of surprise that the force would hope to have, as would be indicated by their hiding behind Jupiter."

Quatre steepled his fingers before him, "I see."

Heero nodded, "And it can't be an accident. They were definitely headed for Earth. The chances of them just hitting the planet at all are astronomical in the extreme."

Cigar smoke drifted across the table.

"Put that damn thing out!" Zechs screamed.

Duke ignored him. "Bottom line, boys and girls, is that they're here, and they aint commin for the beer or the hamburgers. So what the hell are we going to do about it?"

The silence was a death pall, the only motion in the room was the vague drifting of the cigar smoke.

Zechs and Noin looked at Sally pointedly, she rubbed her face and nodded tiredly. 

"All right." Sally turned to Releena. "Code Beta." She said simply. 

"No." Releena's voice was full of flat denial.

Sally shook her head, "No choice ma'am."

Releena sighed and put her head in her hands. When she spoke, it was barely a whisper. "Confirm Code Beta."

Zechs nodded decisively, "Code Beta witnessed as confirmed, to be enacted immediately."

* * *

__

Interlude 3

The most dangerous spy is the inside spy. The fighting bull dog that lives in the opponent's pen is the one most likely to bite you. Duke hates the preventers too much to betray me. But he hates being used to much to be faithful. Even now, I must rely on his reports to prepare my offensive, for the time is almost at hand.

Events are reaching a head in Jordan province and my agent there has done his job well. Soon, this paltry insult of a government will be replaced by the rightful heir of the Barton empire. when Duke makes his report, I will need only one more thing…

Before I rain all hell down onto these fools. So came God's wrath.

* * *

It had been the most harrowing four hours that had ever been spent at the edge of the asteroid belt. tensions had run high to the breaking point. Rand sat hunched over his screen, perspiration pouring down his brow.

"Holy shit."

Tina looked up sharply. "What?"

"We should probably clear it with Gloval first but I think you should call Earthsphere command again."

"Why?"

An icy trickle of terror crept into his voice. "Because we have contacts at the sensor perimeter."

"Contacts?"

"Yes." His voice sounded hollow. "One million contacts, to be precise.


	5. Black and White

Trent Jacobs found himself rushing down the dark hallways in the pit without any clear conception of why he was in such a hurry. All he knew was the computer search he had set on automatic had awakened him only two minutes before with an urgent query. He came upon his office (_Well, they called it an office anyway…_) and shoved the door open roughly. The monitor was on and beeping in that quiet but urgent way that only machines can.

At this point, Trent had no idea of the approaching alien fleet and very little true understanding of the impact that had taken place a scant ten hours before. He only knew that in the middle of his sleep cycle, something had gone terribly wrong.

A message bordered in red flashed incessantly on the screen: **Code Block Designation Omega - Seven - Doctor - One**

"The hell?" Trent rubbed his eyes in confusion, making a futile attempt to rouse himself enough to deal with the problem. He pulled his seat over and plopped down in front of the glaring monitor. His mind slowly caught up enough to really see what was flashing before him.

It still didn't make any sense. Shaking his head, Trent hit the "query" key and an information screen popped up:

DIRECT INFORMATION BLOCK FOR QUERY 11796007-9466B END SECONDARY INFORMATION ROUTES HAVE BEEN LOCKED DOWN IN ACCORDANCE WITH PROGRAM FIREWALL OMEGA: SUBROUTINE SEVEN: DESIGNATION DOCTOR: PRIORITY ONE END ENTER CODE TO CHALLENGE PROGRAM LOCK Y/N?

Trent blinked owlishly at the screen. _Dear god, it's too early for this! What the hell kind of firewall is this?_ Trent had known the Preventer database in and out for over ten years, but he'd never heard of an Omega series of Code blocks.

Y

. . . WAITING . . .

ENTER CODE :\ 

Trent tapped his teeth pensively.

ENTER CODE :\ \\INFORMATION QUERY FOR "OMEGA/DOCTOR"

. . . WAITING . . .

OMEGA: 1. GREEK LETTER SIGNIFYING AN END. FINAL LETTER IN GREEK ALPHABET. 2. BIBLICAL REFERENCE TO THE END OF THE WORLD. 3. THE ENDER, AN END OF ALL THINGS.

"Charming." Trent muttered.

DOCTOR: 1. A PHYSICIAN. ONE DEALING WITH MEDICAL ARTS. 2. A PERSON WHO HOLDS A DOCTORATE DEGREE IN A SUBJECT.

Trent shook his head. "Well no shit." _Way too early…_

OMEGA (/+) DOCTOR: HELLO WEARY TRAVELER, WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARE. THERE ARE MANY THINGS THAT I MUST TELL YOU BUT THAT FIRST YOU MUST CONFIRM THAT YOU ARE READY. 

DR. J DR. J DR. J DR. J DR. J. DR. J DR. J DR. J DR. J DR. J DR. J

CAN YOU GUESS MY NAME?

ENTER CODE :\

"What the hell?" Trent shook his head again. He reached across his desk towards a red phone receiver. The phone had a red tape across it connecting it to the cradle. That tape had a wire inlaid into it. Sighing, Trent broke the tape and lifted the receiver. A red light glowed at the bas of the cradle and the door locked with a hiss of hydraulics. The clock above the door flickered to life in red numbers.

The phone beeped three times. Then an automated voce spoke. "Seal is broken, hard-line is secured and disconnected from all exterior input. Full hard-line integrity confirmed."

Trent waited a full second before stating simply. "This is Preventer Agent Trent Jacobs. Ranked Commander first class, technician control staff. Code security blue level."

Another few seconds passed. There was a click and this time, a real person was on the other end. "Commander Jacobs, Trent. Identity confirmed. Hard-line lock down approved. State time for protocol log."

Trent cleared his throat. "Commander Jacobs, Trent. System lock-down initiating at," a glance at the red clock above the door, "0304 hours."

The voice at the end of the line returned. "As you are aware commander, you are now in a state of total containment. All outside contact, both ingoing and outgoing, will be restricted. Containment period set for twelve hours. Hard-line will be disconnected and purged at exactly 1504 hours. Now terminating outside line." The phone cut immediately and there was nothing but the hollowness of a disconnected line. Trent returned the phone to the receiver cradle. The red light continued to glow balefully from the wall.

Trent turned back to the monitor. The prompt seemed to mock him with its riddle.

ENTER CODE :\

_It's too damn early and I've got twelve hours to try and figure out what this means._

DR. J

CAN YOU GUESS MY NAME?

* * *

Releena stared out from the window of her limousine. The senate hall and government building loomed high on the horizon. Heero looked pointedly at her and, though she could not see him, she knew he was looking at her and demanding to know what was going on.

He cleared his throat. "Well?"

Releena shook her head wearily. "Well what?"

"What is Code Beta?" 

Releena looked angrily at the senate hall ahead. "Code Beta is a fail-safe that was built into the constitution of the United Earth Sphere Nation and the operational codes of the Preventers. It states that in the event of an emergency, more specifically, any kind of invasion, the Preventers will be able to step up patrols and weapons production. Only with executive permission, of course. If the situation is deemed extreme enough, a draft may be instituted in order to bolster the ranks of the peace-keeping forces."

Heero shrugged. "That seems like a reasonable measure."

Releena's eyes blazed angrily. "That's a soldier speaking! All you can see things from is a military stand-point. But what code beta really is, is martial law waiting to happen!"

Heero shook his head. "Une, Noin, Sally, and Zechs would not take advantage of things that way."

Releena looked bitter. "Oh, but they would Heero. They would because their soldiers. And they will take whatever 'reasonable measures' are needed to defeat the enemy. They won't see the long term ramifications. With soldiers, there will always be 'reasonable measures.' They called the atom bomb a 'reasonable measure' for God's sake!"

Heero was quite for a moment. "They called me a reasonable measure too."

Tears brimmed in Releena's eyes. A hiccup bobbed in her chest for a moment. "I know Heero. And part of me has to hate you for what they made you. I have to fight that every day because I know who you really are. But you're still a soldier Heero, and I'm still a pacifist."

Heero shook his head mournfully. "You have to go fight a bigger battle than I do now. You have to go there," he nodded towards the ever larger governmental complex, "and crucify your beliefs in front of the senate. I'm sorry Releena, but you are the one who has to tell them about code Beta. After that, you have to trust Zechs and Noin."

"Trust, Heero, is the rarest commodity of all in my world."

* * *

The supply shuttle finally arrived, but it was not carrying the sort of supplies that Gloval and his crew were used to taking on. It was escorted by a convoy of four _Griffin _class destroyers, each with two attendant _Sphinx _class frigates. The shuttle itself was a drop ship crammed to the bows with technicians and soldiers. They set to work almost immediately transforming the asteroid station into a bristling weapons platform. 

Crews with laser welders and framework layers swarmed over the exterior of the asteroid like army ants building a new nest. Soon cannons protruded from every possible fixture. The Destroyers fanned into a screen and fighter patrols became a common sight from within the observation bubble.

The shuttle itself was a modular affair and was grafted permanently to the secondary airlock. The insides were rearranged to create dorms and a mess hall for the suddenly expanded crew of the station. The shuttles dorsal plain was converted into a missile platform bracket and the fusion reactor was given over to help meet the new power demands. 

Gloval and his crew did their best to stay out of the way of the bustling workers. Though they were military in an official sense, they had all been out of the loop so long that they felt like outsiders who were getting in the way of the grim faced regulars who now tramped through the narrow corridors with rolls of super conductor cable and crates marked; **DANGER: RADIATION HAZARD** or **WARNING: OPERABLE LASER COMPONENTS**.

So instead of trying to get in the way, they managed to lug one of Rand's largest monitors up to the observation bubble and stared at it with dreading fascination as the one million contacts got closer and closer to mid sensor range. Mid sensor range was also the station's defense range. Shots could be calculated at mid sensor range. The war would start for sure when those ships hit mid sensor range.

Rand shook his head. "They sure are taking their sweet time getting here aren't they?"

"Do you really have a problem with that?" Gloval grumbled.

Rand stared at the screen blankly.

Jennessa heaved a sigh. "I'd just as soon they weren't coming at all."

* * *

Sand blew along the blasted tarmac strip. The paint that was still stubbornly clinging to the baking black surface was slowly worn away by the endless grating wind. the planes on the tarmac were protected to a degree from a similar fate by large canvas tarps fastened over their frames. 

A small briefing bunker stood opposite the business end of the runway. Beneath it lay a secret test facility. The floor of the bunker was lined with no less than two feet of grade A plasma and Napalm explosive. Beneath that was a steel plate one foot thick, not thick enough to stop napalm from getting in, but thick enough to stop single celled organism from getting out.

Beneath this plate was a honeycomb of self-contained laboratories, each equipped with a vacuum seal and an independent air circuit. Each lab was also equipped with a ultraviolet purge system, one that would kill any organism in the chamber within two seconds.

All of these counter measures would seem pointless when the point of the lab was to distribute the contagions, but those working on the project did not want to infect themselves or their superiors. 

At this moment, a lot of twenty containers of Soviet blend hyper-contagious flu were in the final test stage before the lab was "breached." The lab would not be breached, of course, until all of the scientists were clear of the planet. It would also wait until automated procedures had replicated enough of the microbe to be distributed to the various planned dispersal points.

The labs were arranged in three levels of safety. Each room was a regular hexagon. Level 1 consisted of twelve such rooms, arranged in a circle that was the perimeter of the complex. Level one was where you would find offices and labs that did not deal with live viruses. Level 1 was the only security level with access to the surface. A person could travel through level one without a containment suit.

Level 2 consisted of a circle of six laboratories that were entered using containment suits attached by air locks and umbilical cords to level one labs. Level two contained gene splicing machines and live cultures of viruses. 

Level 3 was exactly one room, at the very center of the complex. Level 3 was empty except for a bed and a food tube. That of course, and the test subject. Test subject C-94 was a middle aged Caucasian male who had been captured from his Preventer patrol a week before. He had been injured in a battle and told by the doctors in the facility that he was being treated and would be released into military custody upon his recovery. The fact that he had been told this by a doctor in a white containment suit from behind a thick plate of observation glass led him to believe otherwise however.

On the third day of his captivity, subject C-94, (John, if it matters) was exposed to lot 7796 of the blended virus. On the fourth day of his captivity, he found himself with extreme cold symptoms that rapidly worsened. His fever broke thirty two hours into his illness and he dropped into semi-comatose delirium. Now, on the sixth day of his captivity, he was in no state to remember that his name had been John, or anything else for that matter. From time to time he would scream something from the depths of his destroyed mind, but the intercom was off so his words were not recorded. 

At hour forty six, his immune system failed completely and the virus did its deadly work within minutes. It attacked blood vessels and rapidly weakened them. Veins, arteries, and capillaries began to rupture throughout the body, causing a chain reaction of hemorrhaging. His eyes filled with blood and it began to pour from his mouth and nostrils. His skin turned a dark crimson and soon blood was weeping from his pores. With a gurgling, sloshing moan, subject C-94 slumped forward and lay, fully dead in a rapidly expanding pool of blood.

The scientists in level one noted the time of death and filed their reports to their superior. Then they began to initiate the automatic processes of the lab. Within half an hour, the lab ha been completely abandoned and left to carry out its programmed orders.

No one had bothered to attend to subject C-94. There was no need, and it would have been a terrible risk to attempt to retrieve him. Integrity would almost certainly be compromised. Besides, soon subject C-94 would have a lot of company.

* * *

The senate hall was filled with a deathly silence. Releena bravely met the disbelieving stares of the gathered diplomats. "So there you have it. After reviewing the data with our top Preventer officials I have decided to enact Code Beta. Are there any questions?"

A microphone clicked to life at the back of the hall. Senator Brays of L3 stood and cleared his throat. "I thinks it's clear that we have to stick together now. It's us versus them. It's Black and White."


	6. Delightful Shades of Gray

__

Interlude 4

"Black and White." I though that was a nice touch. But nothing's going to be as simple as us versus them. It's never that simple. It's going to be humans versus aliens yes, but humanity's going to have a few more problems to deal with than it realizes. 

I will not allow this unexpected development to stop my plans. The alien's approach is unfortunate to be sure, but I had no delusions about this being a bloodless coup. By the very nature of this plan that is impossible. 

So please, my dear preventers, turn your gaze skyward and prepare. For so you shall be all the better preoccupied when the snake that has been waiting so patiently under your feet strikes. President Yui and her pilots still have no inkling of this plan, and more fools they for not seeing that which has been laid dormant for years. 

Humanity may yet meet these unwanted visitors as a united front. We have been briefed and we hold no illusions as to the strength of our enemy. But if humankind wishes to survive this threat, it will acknowledge the Barton Foundation as its rightful leadership. 

I have just received word from my facility in Jordan that the contagion is ready. My automated factory in the Pacific ocean has reported success in the production of our five dispersal devices.

Most importantly of all, my recruiters on the colonies have reported that we have sufficient forces to carry out our attack. After all these years, Operation: Meteor is ready to be carried out in its truest sense. Thank you again, my dear uncle Dekim.

Humanity will meet these aliens united under me…  
Or humanity will die.

- So reads the log of Senator Jackson Brays, L3 Colonial cluster.

* * *

The shuttle hit the atmosphere in a fiery jolt. The captain adjusted attitude carefully so as to get the optimum affect of the heat shielding. A halo of searing flame surrounded the ship as it dropped like a stone into the rapidly thickening air. When it had reached the altitude of fifty thousand feet, the pilot threw the yoke forward, bringing the nose down to point at the nearing surface. Retros kicked in to slow the decent and at forty five thousand feet, the shuttle leveled off and dropped a bit more slowly. 

The pilot checked airspeed and flipped a switch above his head labeled **Full Atmosphere Mode**. With a roaring, explosive succession of bangs, magnetic clamps all along the sides of the ship popped free. Hydraulics hissed and a pair of wings swung out gracefully from their low slung bays on the shuttle's flanks. Jet engines on high air resistance rails followed the wings out of the bays.

The engines cut in with a low whine and the turbines began to pick up to speed. Inside the cockpit a light flickered on that read; **Engines 1 and 2 have reached optimum output.** The pilot reached over and pulled a ring labeled **Fusion Engine/Decent Retro Cutout**. All the switched and lights in the shuttle flickered for a moment as the fusion reactor shut down. Then the backup battery switched all of the functions over to the jet engines. 

The pilot flipped the intercom on and spoke to his only passenger. "Entering final atmospheric descent stage, Ma'am. Do you have any requests for the tower before we land?"

Back in the passenger section Force Commander Midi Une tapped her own intercom button. "No thank you Colonial, I will brief the commanders upon my arrival."

"Yes Ma'am. ETA for Lake Victoria Airfield is ten minutes." The intercom clicked off. Midi shook her long brown hair and stared out of her small window at the rushing landscape below. _I leave for three days and look what happens!_ She though with a wry smile. Zechs had informed her personally of the impact only an hour after it had occurred, but she had not been able to extricate herself from her investigation until early this morning. A military shuttle had been waiting to whisk her back to her command as soon as she arrived at the military dock on colony L3 X-2637.

Her mind wandered back over what she had discovered on her trip. Things were starting to appear dangerous in the colonies, but nowhere was it more alarming than in the L3 cluster. A Preventer cell had been at work for almost a year in that cluster and the situation was degenerating at an alarming rate.

Political extremists were spreading propaganda through a network that was so old and complicated that its groundwork might very well have been laid in the early days of the Barton Foundation. A large re-armament faction had formed among the right wing of the local government. Tension was becoming almost palpable and an invisible network of recruiters were at work among the youth of the colonies, especially at universities and college campuses.

What was most alarming was how widely this propaganda had been spread and how thoroughly it had saturated the political atmosphere of the colonies in that cluster. Most of the propaganda was false, but it claimed that elitists on Earth were plotting to take away the representation of the colonies in the government. There were whispers of secret troop movements among the Preventers and plans to turn the colonies into slave stations or municipal labor districts. As such, a strong hatred for the Earth-based ESUN was brewing.

As a former revolutionary herself, Midi had recognized just how easily the situation could turn into a bloody uprising. As of yet, Senator Brays, who represented the L3 cluster, did not show any discontentment in his dealings with the government on Earth, but Midi was sure that he had to be at least aware of, if not partially responsible for, the current atmosphere in his colonies.

Midi had run a background check in the colony on Brays but had found it surprisingly sparse for a public member of the government. More so for such a high office as a colony cluster's Senator. This worried her and she planned to ask Trent to run a more thorough background check as soon as she arrived.

The shuttle began to buffet wildly. The multistage decent shuttle was a very efficient way to land a craft and so it was favored by the military. It was however, considered to jarring for civilian use. The shuttle had begun it's final one hundred foot descent and as such was working to quickly diminish its airspeed so the ungainly craft would not rip itself to shreds upon touch-down. 

The wheels hit the tarmac with a bump and bounced. After a few more bounces, it mad full contact with the landing strip. The engines cut to one sixteenth power and the flaps deployed fully to further slow the spacecraft. Finally, after about a minute of rolling down the landing field, the shuttle came to a full stop.

The intercom, clicked back on. "All right back there Ma'am?"

Midi hit her own intercom again. "Just fine Colonial. Put me through to Commander Zechs while we taxi."

"Yes Ma'am, switching to private receiver."

The intercom clicked off once more. After a moment, a yellow light began to blink on the phone receiver built into her chair's armrest. She picked it up. "Zechs?"

Zechs's voice was a bit distorted and tinny sounding because of the relay. "Yes Ma'am."

"Is everyone in the briefing amphitheater?"

"Yes Ma'am. The whole senior staff will be ready to begin when you arrive."

Midi nodded even though there was no visual pick up on this phone. "Good, one last thing before we dock."

"Yes?" 

"Is Trent available? I need him to do some work for me."

"No," came his immediate reply.

Midi shook her head in mild frustration. "Where is he?"

"He's been in hard-line isolation since 0304 hours this morning."

Une cocked an eyebrow. "Really? What's he up to?"

"No idea. But he's all ready uncovered something interesting that you'll need to be told in person and I think it has to do with that."

There was a dull thud as the shuttle connected with the airlock, followed by a hiss of pressurized air. "Gotta go Zechs. See you in a minute."

"Right. Welcome home Lady Une." The line disconnected. With a smile, Lady Une tossed off an imaginary salute. Then, sighing, she undid her crash webbing and stood. She wobbled for a moment and got her balance as she got used to being back on Earth. Colony gravity was usually set at about three quarters that of Earth, there for it took her body a moment to adjust. 

The hatch hissed open and the pilot stuck his head in. "You may depart now Ma'am."

Midi took an experimental step and, finding it satisfactory, threw a salute and grabbed her brief case. Then she strode out of the shuttle and into the brightly lit air base concourse. She saw that a ground vehicle was waiting to take her over to the main base and hurried towards it.

The driver nodded a salute and allowed her to throw her brief case into the back seat. She then vaulted into the front passenger seat and waited for them to go. The driver drove out onto the tarmac and hit the switch that pulled a glass bubble over the top of the car. It was foggy outside and pockets of rain would pour down intermittently.

Midi turned to the driver and remarked, "Awfully strange weather for this time of year."

The driver nodded but kept his eyes on the task of negotiating through the thick mist. "It's from the crash Ma'am. When the ship hit the lake it pretty much vaporized the lot of it. If it had been much larger, or if it had hit the land, it probably would have completely wiped out the base regardless of it blowing up or not."

"I see."

The driver did not comment but concentrated on driving through the ambiguous landscape towards the looming building ahead where Lady Une would brief her troops.

* * *

It was 1307 hours according to the clock above the door. Trent had been working straight for the past ten hours. His system was full of stim-pills, special pills that allowed him to stay awake and focused for the duration. He had spent the entire time wading through endless references and subroutines, trying to find the origin of the code block. 

He was locked directly into the Preventer secure database. The secure database could only be accessed by a direct hard-line. It was not connected to any outside sources of input. It was, in fact, kept in an entirely different set of computers and could only be accessed by an operator confirming a request from a verified agent of Blue level security clearance.

For all of his ten hours of work, Trent had found exactly nothing. The stimulants pumping through his blood were beginning to wear away at his focus, the main reason for restricting Hard-line use to twelve hours. After twelve hours, he would be disconnected and his monitor purged. He had to find out what the code block was hiding before that happened or he would have to wait twenty four to forty eight hours and start from scratch.

CAN YOU GUESS MY NAME?

CAN YOU GUESS MY NAME?

CAN YOU GUESS MY NAME?

"No." Trent growled, "So why don't you just tell me?" Most of the time, messages like these were the only thing that told Trent he had hit close to home. 

ENTER CODE :\

Trent sighed and ground the heel his palms into his aching eyes. He briefly entertained the idea that when he opened them, the maddening question would be gone and would be replaced by some simple explanation.

Suddenly, an idea hit him. He tapped out his query.

ENTER CODE :\ INFORMATION QUERY FOR "DR. J/NAME"

. . .WAITING. . .

DR. J(/+)NAME: HELLO, I AM DOCTOR J. MY ASSOCIATES AND I HAVE SPENT MUCH TIME AND EFFORT TO THWART THE PLANS OF THE BARTON FOUNDATION. TO THE EFFECTS OF THESE EFFORTS WE TRAINED FIVE YOUNG BOYS TO BECOME PILOTS FOR THE GUNDAMS WE CREATED. HOWEVER, ALL WITH THESE PILOTS IS NOT AS IT SEEMS. FOR FURTHER INFORMATION, ENTER MY NAME.

WE HAVE PLAYED GOD.

"We have played God?" Trent shook his head. Only two ore hours to figure this out.

ENTER CODE :\

Trent tapped his teeth for a moment. Something about the question "What is my name?" and this seemingly unrelated comment about god had sent the gears in his head turning. There was a correlation, some elusive connection his stimulant packed brain could not grasp.

He found his mind drifting back to an old movie he had seen as a kid. He didn't remember what it was called but it dealt with a man who was searching for the Holy Grail. He and his father were chased through temples by an army and only the father knew how to get past the traps. A bit of conversation drifted through his mind. 

_"In the name of God, ye shall pass."_

The name of God?

"It sounds like a J but in Hebrew it's spelled with an I…"

Spelled with an I? God? Trent's brain clicked a bit more. 

_Dr. J…_

Name of God…

J…

Trent sat up as the solution hit him like a thunder bolt.

ENTER CODE :\ JAHOVA

"AND GOD CAME DOWN FROM THE HEAVENS AND SAW THE TOWER THAT THE PEOPLE HAD MADE AND WAS ANGERED."

YOU HAVE GUESSED MY NAME. NOW I WILL TELL YOU ALL.

* * *

Gloval had discovered something during the time he and his crew had spent on their grim and dreading vigil. He had found that it was utterly impossible to truly comprehend the idea of a million ships. There was no basis for such a number. It had no right to exist outside the context of people, money, or grains of sand. Nothing so large as a warship could possibly number in the millions. Hundreds, yes. Thousands, maybe. _Millions?_ Never!

But there they were, and they were getting closer. Getting closer while Gloval and his crew sat beneath a glass bubble and watched helplessly as what they had reluctantly come to acknowledge as their home became humanity's first line of defense.

_Well, there is one good thing about this mess,_ Gloval reflected in a daze, _the coffee's gotten better._

Suddenly a klaxon began to blare and a voice resounded from the newly wired station address system. "All hands report to battle stations. Senior staff report to the command deck at once!"

The fleet had crossed the middle sensor perimeter.

Weapons Range.

* * *

Midi sat back in her briefing chair and regarded the senior agents arrayed before her. "And we have no idea why their coming?"

Wufie shook his head. "No ma'am."

"I see. Do we have any ideas?"

A glance confirmed that no, nobody had any ideas.

Then a voice drifted casually from one of the shadowed corners of the packed amphitheater. A voice full of disdain and a southern accent. "Who cares?"

Midi turned her chair slowly to cover her surprise. She arched an eyebrow. "You have something to contribute, General Duke?"

The fat general emerged smiling from the shadows. "Why yes, yes I do. _Ma'am_." This last token of respect was loaded with sarcasm. He sauntered forward and leaned heavily on an unused podium. "Why do we care why their coming. It could be anything for all we know. Maybe they got a hankering for some good old fashioned Kentucky Fried Human. Maybe they found a brochure in an intergalactic tourist trap and good ol' Earth sounded like some prime real estate. Hell, maybe they was just mindin' their own business when they intercepted some old radio signals from Earth, and 'I like chicken, I like liver, Meow Mix, Meow Mix please deliver,' is the most horrible insult you can give in their language.

"As far as I can tell, it doesn't matter why they're comin'. Because all we know for sure is that they _are_ comin'. And by thunderin' Hell, they're comin' fast."

Just then an aid burst into the Amphitheater. He was waving a dispatch and the guards let him pass. He sprinted to where Une sat and tossed a perfunctory salute. Midi leaned forward in surprise and anticipation. "What? What is it?"

The aid slammed the dispatch down onto the desk in front of her. "We've just received word from the crews on board YTL-70999. They are awaiting orders."

"Awaiting orders? Why?"

"The fleet has entered weapons range. They want to know if they should fire."

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Next in Every Star A Candle, While the preventers must quickly decide how to deal with the rapidly approaching alien fleet, Trent Jacobs has made an alarming discovery that must be followed up on. Also, Senator Brays is now finally ready to begin his plan for take over. Will Releena be able to hold the Earth Sphere United Nation together as it is attacked from all sides and the threat of Martial law looms ever higher?

Find out in the next chapter, _Showdown on the Forgotten Star_

Note: Please people, if you read this, review. I gladly accept flamers as I consider them constructive criticism.


	7. Showdown on the Forgotten Star

Belated Disclaimer: (AKA; Legal shit) I do not own Gundam Wing. Gundam Wing, it's merchandise, and the likeness of its characters are the sole licensed property of the Shotsu corporation, Sunrise, and Bandai Japan. All settings and characters from this series, as well as names, titles, and mecha designs are the property of the above mentioned parties. This is a work of non-profit fan-fiction. No funds will be derived from the writing or publishing of this piece.

My Beta reader has also informed me that I should not the following. Any similarities to Robotech, ™ StarCraft, ™ or any other licensed animes, games, movies, or literary works, is purely coincidental. All persons in this story are fictional and licenses to real people is purely coincidental.

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Senator Jackson Brays of the L3 Colony Cluster stepped out of the helicopter and savored the salty smell of the sea. The deck of riveted steel swayed slightly with the rhythm of the waves and there was a continuous groaning sound as the ancient construction settled further on it's iron pylons.

The oil rig had been abandoned by the co-op of oil producers that owned it over a hundred years before and been left to rust in the middle of the Pacific rim. It was dangerous to approach the looming edifice of rusting iron from the sea and the air routes were rarely traveled by anything but high-speed, intercontinental transports trying to save some time and fuel by looping over the arctic circle. Such a secluded location was ideal for the Senator's plans.

An ice laden wind swept across the deck and salty frost had accumulated on the deck piping. The rusted main derrick tilted crazily and wind howled through the holes on the tower as if some malevolent god was trapped inside and dying. Jackson pulled his fleece parka close about himself and drew closed the hood. 

A hellish wind picked up as the helicopter lifted skyward. The wind dissipated as the down draft from the rotors cleared the deck and a moment later, the helicopter was _thwok, thwok, thwok_ing its way east.

Brays was alone on the deck. Protocol demanded that there be no communication between incoming aircraft and the rig. Protocol also demanded that no one be sent to meet visitors, it would be too easy to have their security and plans compromised. For all intents and purposes, the oil rig still seemed abandoned. 

The rig lurched a bit with a particularly violent and prolonged groan. A rusted chain swung free somewhere and began to clang against a pipe in the wind. The hollow ringing sound was unsettling enough that Brays considered trying to find it and tie it back down. He abandoned that thought a moment later and made his way carefully across the rocking deck. 

He came to a hatch that was rusted shut. The rig was silent except for the howling of the wind, groaning of the ancient supports, and that damn chain.

_clang, clang, clang_

Brays pulled a magnetic clamp from inside his jacket and affixed it to the ancient hatch. The clamp's monitor glowed green to show it had a lock. Then a small hydraulic armature stretched out and attached itself to the hatch's wheel lock. After a moment, the hydraulics began to compress and with an earth-rending squeal, the wheel began to turn. Chunks of brown rust cascaded from the wheel and the locking bolts slowly returned to their sheaths inside the frame of the door. The hatch swung open slowly on ancient hinges. Senator Brays found himself staring into an inkwell of freezing blackness.

He took a moment to examine the hatch itself. The door itself was shiny new stainless steel on the inside. The rust had been carefully applied to the outside of the hatch to disguise the change. Brays resisted the urge to take flashlight out of his pocket as he knew that would result in his immediate death. He instead took a step into the frigid blackness and closed the hatch carefully behind him. The wind took hold of the hatch before he could quite close it and it slammed shut with an echoing crash.

Brays again resisted the urge to grab a flashlight despite a growing sense of claustrophobia. Instead, he steadied his breathing and counted off the seconds in his head.

_1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . . 7 . . . 8 . . . 9 . . . 10_

At the ten second mark, a horribly bright light snapped on and Brays found himself staring down a rifle barrel. His attention shifted from the business end of the weapon to the face behind it. The man was bundled up in black and his entire face was hidden in a night vision mask. Brays expanded his attention yet further and noted that the man had four companions, all similarly attired.

Brays and the sentry regarded each other for another moment, then the sentry lowered his gun and pulled off his mask. It came free in a spray of unruly brown hair that covered a bright, youthful face. Brays was surprised at the seemingly young age of the sentry but said nothing of it. 

Smiling, the youth snapped a precise salute, "Welcome aboard sir. Please follow me to the factory level."

Brays threw a return salute and nodded. "Thank you."

The youth led him down a brightly lit, but still rusted corridor. They reached a lift and the doors ground open with a moan. The inside of the lift appeared safe and comfortable but Brays was still dubious. The youthful sentry shook his head. "Don't worry sir, the shaft's reinforced the whole way down."

"Ah." Brays flashed a frosty smile and stepped in. When the doors closed, it immediately became warmer inside the chamber. The lift began to descend with a quiet hum. The sentry stood at ramrod attention and Brays hid a smile at the young man's fervor.

Brays leaned back against the wall of the capsule. "Tell me son," he began amicably, "what's your name?"

"Private Cadin Rowanoak, Sir!"

Brays snorted in derision. "Relax son, where're you from?"

The sentry seemed a bit uncomfortable with sudenly being on familiar terms with the senator. "L3-X2733, Sir."

"L3, huh? Good to know your from close to home. I grew up on X1744 you know. Always loved that cluster."

The sentry nodded. "X1744. Did you know anyone from the Barton foundation? I thought they had their base there."

Brays smirked. "You might say I was acquainted with a few members of the foundation, yes."

A tone sounded and Brays made a good natured nod in Cadin's direction. "Better snap it up son, don't want to be charged with laxness in the presence of a superior officer now do you?"

"No sir!" Cadin snapped to attention just as the doors of the lift hissed open.

And revealed a vast factory floor and hanger combination facility. The lift itself opened onto a cat-walk that spanned the facility and connected with a command room on the other side. Brays set off down the metal bridge at a fast pace, his boots clanging importantly against the meshed steel. Cadin matched pace in order to keep up. 

Brays surveyed the room as he went, without turning back, he called, "We're under water now, correct?"

"Yes sir."

Brays nodded. "Tell me, Private, are you just a sentry?"

Cadin smiled at the senator's back. "No sir, I'm a pilot as well."

"Just a pilot?"

"No sir, one of _the_ pilots."

"Excellent." Brays drew short at the middle of the cat walk and turned to face the production floor. Five Gundams stood at attention in massive docking brackets. They were all identical except for variations of paint scheme. 

They looked as though a madman had gotten hold of the schematics for Gundam Deathscythe and regurgitated them in his own twisted image. Bulbous armor covered the frames of the mecha and lethal looking spikes jutted from joint caps and the shoulders. A pair of demon wings were folded over the chests and the head seemed oddly canted forward, lending the entire construct an appearance of a feral beast ready to strike. Each Gundam clasped a wickedly warped beam-scythe in their hands that had the appearance of a curved threshing sickle.

Brays smiled. "Which one's yours?"

Cadin grinned and pointed at the center Gundam. It was jet black and its paint shimmered iridescently. Custom green flame had been detailed along the eyes and the scythe handle had been painted to look like knotted wood.

Brays felt his smile widen into a dangerous grin. "Wonderful."

* * *

Sally and Lady Une burst into the command post and saw the face of a very drawn looking man grimly towering over them from the main communications screen. Lady Une straightened and smoothed her dress out of habit. "The aliens have entered the perimeter, Admiral Grapphin?"

The grim man nodded. "We are awaiting orders Ma'am."

Lady Une nodded. "They get one chance. Send out a courier broadcasting a peace message. See what they do. If they respond with hostility, you are authorized to fire."

The grim man nodded again and the screen winked off. Lady Une turned to Sally. "What is the status of weapons mass production?"

"The factories have been operational since an hour after the first impact."

Lady Une's eyes widened a bit, "Does Releena know?"

Sally shook her head. "Let's say we had an inkling that code Beta would be initiated and acted on that assumption."

"I see, and are our peace keeping forces ready to respond should the invasion escalate?"

Sally nodded. "We have troops in all major population centers. We can institute Martial Law at a moment's notice."

Lady Une gave a small smile. "Excellent. And if Releena or the Senators should cause trouble?"

Sally looked troubled for a moment. "We are prepared to detain them as a protective measure."

Lady Une nodded grimly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

* * *

The ships were visible from the observation bubble. Not distinctly, not as anything more than points of light, but visible none the less. Gloval and his crew suddenly found themselves surrounded by top level officers and technicians hauling portable monitors. Admiral Grapphin of the _Griffin_ class destroyer _George Washington_, the flagship of the one week old Preventer Earthsphere perimeter fleet, walked in followed by an entourage of high ranking officers. "He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Senior Commander, we are requisitioning this room for fleet command, please remove your crew."

Gloval shook his head. "No, this is my station, if anything's going to happen to it, I want a say."

Grapphin looked as though he was about to order Gloval's execution on the spot but reconsidered. "Very well, but your crew must remove themselves."

Gloval nodded. His crew turned silently and departed. 

Grapphin surveyed the officers arrayed before him. "As you know ladies and gentlemen, this is an unprecedented situation. We have no experience with large scale combat in space and many of our capital ship systems have yet to be battle tested. Our leaders at Preventers headquarters have ordered that we send a courier broadcasting a peace message to see if they respond. If they respond with hostility, we have been ordered to respond at our strategic discretion. I don't need to tell you that 'strategic discretion' is as close as we'll get to a free bill in the military. We've been handed a blank check, to do with as we please.

"But we all ready know what we'll do if the aliens respond with hostility. We're going to throw our fleet down their throat and hope they choke."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, aboard the light courier ship _Avita_, Second Lieutenant Sect felt like he was going to piss his pants, or maybe throw up. Yes, throw up seemed likely. Sect was the first human to get a really good look at one of the alien ships. What he saw was terrifying.

Though the comm was turned off he knew it was transmitting a message of peace and understanding. He didn't think he could stand listening to the endless stream of hopeful platitudes for any extended period of time. Looking out at the ships, he was pretty sure he all ready knew the answer.

The ship nearest to him seemed to be a light frigate of some sort. It appeared to be made of glowing gold and ivory, possessing a terrible and graceful beauty. A pair of forward swept wings gave it the appearance of a manta ray swimming backwards. The central keel bulged outwards and a strange construction protruded from the prow. He could not identify any weapons or hangers but something about the bulge at the front of the ship worried him.

Suddenly a voice entered his head. It was a great and terrible voice. It reminded Sect of a choir he had heard in an ancient cathedral as a child. It seemed to echo grandly in his head and for a moment, he was so stricken that he could not decipher the words that flowed into him. He backed up a bit and listened to what was said.

****

"Oh Infidel! Do not come nearer to us or you will disgrace us! Instead, hold thy head low and accept thy cleansing!"

"What the-" Second Lieutenant Sect was no more.

* * *

On board the station, no one had heard that glorious voice, for it had only been sent into the unfortunate Lieutenant's head. They merely watched from the observation bubble as suddenly, in one terrible instant, the visible spectrum inverted itself. Space outside was pure white and flecked by specks of blackness. Officers threw up their hands to cover their eyes and whimpered in terror.

Then they awful light was gone. As was all trace of the courier ship. Admiral Grapphin apprehensively opened a channel to the courier's frequency. "Sect, Sect, do you read? Sect, report if you are able."

Only static.

Grapphin's habitually grim face settled into a grimace. "I'd say that they've responded with hostility."

* * *

Noin entered Lady Une's office quietly. The Commander's chair faced away from the door but Midi had heard her enter. Without turning she said, "I suppose we've elicited a response from the aliens?"

"Yes Ma'am, we have."

"And the response was?"

"The response was hostile."

Midi finally turned to face Noin. "What colony cluster is facing the aliens approach vector?"

"L2"

Midi sighed and for the first time, Noin thought how truly _old_ she looked. "Very well. Inform our cells in the L2 cluster that they are to institute protective peace-keeping measures immediately."

Noin nodded. "And Releena?"

"Send a contingent to take her and her staff into custody. Make sure that contingent is armed. Releena _will_ carry through with the Code Beta protocol."

Noin looked as though she wanted to say something but refrained. Instead she snapped a salute, spun on her heel and exited the room.

And so, after twenty years of uneasy peace, Releena's worst fear was coming true.

Martial Law.

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Please Review! Pleeeeeeease! 

Next Chapter: _Holy War_


	8. Holy War

Across the L2 cluster, sirens began to sound. Families watched in fear as tanks filled with Preventer troops rolled down streets. Local police forces found themselves being forcibly relieved of duty at gun-point. Factories were seized and prepared for conversion so that they would be able to produce war materials by the end of the week. 

Highly trained Zero-G teams swarmed across the surface of the colonies, mounting laser cannons and missile launchers. Salvage teams were dispatched to the lunar surface in hopes of capturing or renovating any remaining tunnel systems.

At the aliens current rate of advance, L2 had one week to prepare before the massive fleet arrived.

* * *

Releena was sitting in her office watching the rain pound into here massive plate glass window. Heero sat in a small chair, his gun on the table beside him. Releena turned her chair and regarded her husband. "Do you think they would?"

Heero's eyes pierced her as he said quietly. "They would consider at a reasonable measure."

Releena shook her head in disbelief, "I don't believe they'd just go ahead and do it, not without my consent."

"You all ready gave your consent."

A sharp glare, "What?"

Heero shrugged. "Code Beta, sorry dear, but we all heard you say it."

Releena put her hands up in protest, "But, if this report is true, they've taken Code Beta far too seriously. Setting up shop on a colony without warning is out of the question!"

Heero shrugged again. "When this is all over, you're going to have to redefine Code Beta's protocols."

Releena propped her elbows on her desk. "We weren't ever supposed to need it. That's the only reason I agreed to it. Who could've know that we'd actually be invaded, by anyone?"

Heero stood and came around his wife's cumbersomely massive desk. He leaned in behind her and began to knead her knotted shoulders. "Protocols are laid down so that something can be done even if an unlikely situation arises."

"I don't think it gets more unlikely than this," she mumbled. Her voice was muffled by her arms.

"We still have to trust Sally and Noin and Zechs. Even Lady Une, she's always had good judgment in the past."

Releena let out a hollow laugh that echoed strangely in her spacious office. "I thought you didn't trust my brother."

Heero sighed and kneaded her back a bit harder. "That was twenty years ago. And he did a wonderful job of holding things together while I was laid up in hospital bed and the doctors severely doubted I'd ever walk again."

Releena was silent for a minute, listening to the torrents of rain lashing the thick glass. "Why did he do it?"

"Who?" Heero asked curiously.

"Duo."

Heero stopped massaging her and took a step back. He crossed his arms and looked distant for a moment. "Because he had to. Because it was closure."

"Do you think he's happy now?"

Heero thought for a moment longer. "I suppose he's either very happy or very bored."

Another hollow laugh. Heero began to massage her again. After a few more quiet moments, Releena murmured. "Do you really think they'd come here?"

Heero was saved from answering by the door bursting open. It was Frank, Releena's press secretary. He was out of breath and looked scared out of his wits. Heero was by the table and holding his gun in an instant.

Releena came quickly around the desk and grabbed Frank by the shoulders, straightening him. "What is it Frank?"

"Soldiers, they're here. They've got an armored limousine and they're under orders to bring you and the rest of the senior staff to a bunker for 'protective custody.'"

Releena spun to face Heero, "God Heero, what do we do?"

"That's not all," Frank wheezed, "There's a stand off in the lobby between the Preventer soldiers and your secret service."

"_What?_ What the hell do you mean there's a stand off?"

"The soldiers are led by a General who's not following protocol. He's got a warrant but he won't accept secret service escort."

Heero nodded meaningfully to Releena. "That's gotta be Duke."

Releena nodded. "Sounds that way. We've got to get down there."

* * *

"You must be joking." Quatre remarked levelly as he regarded Lady Une's image on his phone screen. 

"I'm afraid that that is not the case, Mr. Winner."

Quatre nodded amicably. "All right, but I need you to repeat your request on record so that I can review the constitution when this is all over."

Lady Une gave a frosty smile. "You'll be wasting your time, but I will repeat my _order_. You will turn the automated mecha fabrication facilities that your company maintains on the L4 colony cluster to Preventer forces. You will also instruct us in the programming of large scale weapons fabrication."

"No."

"Are you aware, Mr. Winner, that there is currently a state of Martial Law in affect. It is only do to your prestige and fame that I even warn you after you have denied a direct order. This is your last chance, Mr. Winner, turn over your facilities or prepare to have them seized by force."

"Yes I am aware of the current state of affairs in the Earthsphere." Quatre gritted his teeth. "So by all means, come and get me."

With that, he jabbed his finger down onto the disconnect button, the screen blinked off. Quatre sat for a moment and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Then he dialed up his chief of security. "Quincy, get up here. We're about to have a situation."

* * *

On board the relay station at the edge of the asteroid belt, things were in a frenzy and reaching the state of chaos and panic. Though it was quite obvious that the aliens were hostile, no one was quite sure how to deal with ships of such immense power.

Finally, after nearly an hour of debate, it was agreed that they should calculate firing solutions for a missile attack. A small forward group of light frigates, including the one that had destroyed the courier, was chosen to be the target. Laser tracers tracked their invisible way across the void until they reached a target, then they fed their information back to the missile tubes attached to their sensor bulb, acting like a sort of sonar at the speed of light. When each of the frigates had been 'painted' with a missile lock, the command was given to fire.

All across the station, compressed gasses and oxygen ignited in tubes to propel warheads across the airless reaches of space. The missiles were primarily plasma warheads and the gathered fleet commanders were anxious to see how such weapons performed against their untested foe. Fifty missiles screamed across the void, twisting and diving to avoid asteroids. The aliens did not seem to note the missiles approach, they continued their lethal and serene course across the star studded blackness.

The lead missile struck it's target along a wide swept wing, blinding plasma ate through armored plating and warped the structure of the entire port side of the ship. Other missiles hit their targets with equaled precision and still the aliens did not react, the targeted ship sailed gracefully into the massacre.

The command deck burst into cheering and back slapping. Each of the ten targeted frigates had been destroyed. Admiral Grapphin watched coolly as the officers celebrated. Then he cleared his throat. The happy exclamations of happiness subsided into murmuring quiet. "Need I remind you that there are still better than nine hundred thousand of those ships coming our way?"

Sobered silence.

* * *

It was like something out of a nightmare. In the middle of the pristine reception hall, two sets of commandos, one dressed in black and camouflage fatigues, the other in blue and gold livery, were facing off with automatic weapons. As Releena descended the stairways quickly, she was met by the gun barrels of both sides. A group of blue and gold clad secret service men pealed off of the flank and hurried up to circle her protectively.

A drawling, mocking voice projected from the rear of the Preventer formation. "I see her Madam-ship is ready to go."

A secret servicemen in crowd control armor gestured threateningly with his heavy repeater rifle as he bellowed, "She's the president of the Earth Sphere United Nation, and as such will be addressed with respect."

Duke shoved his way to the front of his ranks. "You are an organization under Preventer jurisdiction under orders to stand down and take the President custody. You will comply or be tried for treason!"

"We swore an oath to protect the President in all situations. You will not pass without her consent!" This comment was underscored by a red dot that appeared unwavering between Duke's eyes.

The words of the argument echoed surreally in the massive chamber. Therefor it took a Releena a moment to assimilate the scene before her. Finally it sunk in that this was not some new twist on an old nightmare, that this was real. She was dimly aware of the fact that Heero was shielding her from the majority of the opposing fire and that he had his gun aimed at the corpulent General.

But then the reality of the situation did sink in and she shoved her way forward. "Stop! Stop this nonsense at once! I'll come, but I'll have no blood staining this place of democracy."

Duke's pig-like face lit up in an awful smile. "Knew you'd see it my way. All yous over there, drop your weapons and hit the deck!" There was a clatter of automatic weapons being safetyed and dropped to the marble floor. 

A contingent of black clad soldiers surrounded Releena and she found herself being swept out into the pouring rain.

* * *

The alien fleet stopped. Dead. It was an abrupt and terrible thing. Thousands of steadily advancing ships just coming to an immediate halt and hanging there, almost brooding.

A glowing ivory pod shot from a large ship towards the lateral left of the formation. It sped towards the station at such an awful speed that the screamed order "Brace for Impact!" was as much a reflex and an after thought as anything else. It also happened to be unnecessary. The pod drew short a thousand feet shy of the station, well within the patrol perimeter of the surprised destroyers. Grapphin had half a mind to blow the thing out of space for its sheer impudence. But it appeared to have something to say.

Suddenly, the wondrous and terrifying voice that Sect had heard before parting ways with the universe entered the head of every human on the station.

**"Infidels! We of the noble and holy world Anagra, the mighty and righteous Aleraus, declare your world to be impure. We have come to cleanse this galaxy of all that is not in the glorious image of our God, Rammah! Do your holy duty! Bow before our blessed swords and accept your fate. Know that in your passing, you leave the Universe a place better suited to serve the will of Rammah. If you accept your fate, you shall have a place as servants in heaven, but if you deny our righteous will, you will burn in the eternal hell of Pagans and Infidels. We have come to cast out the demons of Genetic Impurity!"**

With that, the pod turned and blasted back to the enemy formation. The fleet began to move again and everyone realized it hadn't been that bad when it had stopped after all.

Gloval, who was seated in the back corner of the observation bubble grimaced over a cup of coffee. "Wonderful. A holy war."

* * *

Trent Jacobs finally managed to pull Lady Une aside and breathlessly explain that he had found something amazing while in the hard-line lock down. He was excitedly waving a sheaf of papers that were the only record of hid work in the data quarantine.

She finally got him to calm down and pull him aside. "What is it?"

"Clones."

* * *

The wind was blowing westward in Southern Jordan. It blew through four towns and one Preventer base. Corporal Jack Stevens stood watch from one in the morning until the day break changing of the guard. He went back to his bunker and slept for about eight hours. He then woke up and went to the canteen to get some breakfast. Little did he know that he was announcing the death of nearly everyone in the room when he entered, even facilitating that death.

Corporal Jack Stevens was coughing.

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Next Chapter, _Plaguescythe_


	9. Plaguescythe

I'm ba-ack! After a weekend of performing and two subsequent days recovering, I have finally found the time to return to this story. I'll be attempting to recapture my previous pace. Sorry if this chapter feels a bit wrong, I'm regaining the threads of my plot. Hope you've all been nice and stuck around. Enjoy as the epic resumes! *derisive snort* _Sure… epic…_

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Lady Une stared at Trent blankly. "What?"

He dropped the cell prints into her hands and said again. "Clones."

She looked at the top sheet of flimsy.

PROJECT JEHOVAH

DOCTOR J PROFESSOR G DOCTOR S INSTRUCTOR H MASTER O

PROJECT BEGINS AC 174

WE HAVE BEEN GODS

BEHOLD OUR SIN

Lady Une looked at Trent pointedly. "What the hell is this?"

"When I attempted to find information on Duo Maxwell's genetic markers, to try and get into the locked codes, I found a information block that had been full wired into our entire data base. I jacked into the Hard-line and spent twelve hours sifting through our core data base. I found out that there is a sub-server that has been a part of our operating procedures since the creation of the organization. No doubt because we used so much of Oz's old hardware. After solving the riddle that guarded the sub-server, I opened it and found this. Project Jehovah."

Lady Une nodded and flipped to the next page. 

IN RESPONSE TO THE OVERTURES OF DEKIM BARTON OF THE BARTON FOUNDATION, WE HAVE AGREED TO HELP DESIGN AND IMPLEMENT THE CREATION OF MOBILE SUITS CODE-NAMED '"GUNDAMS." WE DO NOT TRUST BARTON, NOR DO WE BELIEVE IN HIS PLANS. WE WILL NOT HELP HIM DOMINATE THE EARTHSPHERE. INSTEAD, WE WILL USE THE WEAPONS WE CREATE AGAINST HIM, USING HIS OWN MATERIALS TO BRING HIS DOWNFALL. BUT THE GUNDAMS WE CREATE WILL NOT BE THE ONLY WEAPONS OF OUR CREATION. THEY WILL ONLY BE TOOLS FOR OUR TRUE WEAPONS. 

WE WILL CREATE PILOTS, IDEALLY SUITED TO COMBAT IN ALL SITUATIONS. THEY WILL BE PRODUCED FROM CAREFULLY ENGINEERED GENETIC COCKTAILS. AFTER AN ACCEPTABLE GERMINATION TIME, THEY WILL BE SECRETED AWAY TO SURROGATES, GIVEN SECRET LIVES, PASTS TO DRAW ON. THEN, AFTER A CERTAIN TIME, THEY WILL FIND THEMSELVES ALONE, ADRIFT, THEN WE WILL COME TO THEM. WE WILL EMERGE FROM OUR HIDDEN PLACES AND SHOW THEM THE TOOLS THEY WILL NEED, GIVE THEM TRAINING, ERASE THEIR HUMANITY, CHANGE THEIR ORDERS. THEN THEY WILL FREE THE EARTHSPHERE. DEKIM WILL BE SURPRISED TO SAY THE LEAST.

SHOULD ONE OF OUR CREATIONS DIE, A BACKUP WILL BE GROWN AND REPLACE IT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. UNFORTUNATELY, IT WILL TAKE MANY YEARS BEFORE THE SECOND CLONE WILL BE READY TO BEGIN FIGHTING.

Lady Une steadied herself against a desk. "Someone has to tell them."

"The pilots, you mean?"

"Yes, someone has to tell them that they're clones. And someone's got to tell them that Duo's alive, just not the Duo they knew."

* * *

The armored limousine cruised serenely through the deluge of rain. Releena sat in the back seat, opposite her husband. She had her face cupped in her hand and a sad look upon her face. She watched the rain drops pummeling the bullet proof glass dejectedly. She sighed but did not turn. "I thought you said they wouldn't do it."

Heero was silent.

There was no accusation, only bitter sadness in Releena's voice as she continued, "You told me that I should just trust Sally and Noin. That Zechs and Wuffie would take care of me. That Midi would respect my authority and not turn this situation into martial law."

Heero nodded. "I still say we should trust them. The Preventers are there to help us, not hurt us. It's Duke that we can't trust."

"Yes, that's true. But as long as Lady Une and the rest of the Preventers have their attention pointed skyward, Duke is given free reign down here."

"Neither Zechs or Wuffie is going to allow him to run free for long."

"But it might be too late all ready, we don't know where he's taking us, and the troops under his command don't know if he's lying about the orders or not."

Heero reached out and took her hand. She finally turned to face him, and there were tears in her eyes. "I will protect you."

"Oh Heero," she sobbed and buried her head against his shoulder.

He reached behind her and stroked her back. Softly, he murmured into her ear. "I will always protect you."

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, in the command center of Lake Victoria, disturbing reports began to filter through the lines. In the current situation, disturbing reports were almost expected. But no one had expected them to come from the ground.

The first report came from the Preventer base in southern Jordan. It said that several members of the base staff had become horribly ill with what appeared to be influenza. A one Corporal Jack Stevens was all ready dead, and it seemed that several others were about ready to give up the ghost. The unfortunate corporal had lasted less than forty eight hours from when he first began to show symptoms until his demise. While, alarming, this would not be an extremely worrisome incident if it had been an isolated one. The base would have been quarantined and a bio-chem team would have been dispatched as soon as possible to assess the situation.

But it was followed by a report a little over an hour later that there was a deadly form of influenza sweeping through Las Angeles. And that followed twenty minutes later by a tip that people were becoming violently ill in Tokyo. Interspersed with these major reports were smaller ones. Tips from civilians who claimed to have seen strange mobile suits in the night. 

Lady Une had been holding back on full out Martial law on the Earth's surface, but after these reports began to increase in frequency, she pulled out all the stops. Tanks and Mobile Suit divisions were dispatched to quarantine affected areas. Military testing and research stations were set up quickly, in hopes of detaining and studying the pathogen.

Three hours after the first report had come in, Lady Une called an emergency meeting. Zechs, Noin, Wuffie, Sally, and Trent all rushed to the conference room to see what was going on. 

Lady Une turned her chair to face her subordinates. "First off; let's drop the formalities, we're all friends here. What the hell is going on?"

"Germ Warfare." Zechs said simply.

"And the reports of Mobile Suits?"

Sally shook her head. "Too soon to tell. We get reports like that all the time."

"But this many at once?"

Noin nodded sympathetically. "It _is_ unusual. Another thing that worries me are the similarities between the reports."

Wuffie nodded. "And all so close to the breakout sites. This whole situation reeks of a set up."

Noin looked helplessly at Zechs. "Yes, but who?"

"I believe I have an idea." Midi leaned forward and steepled her fingers in front of herself. "Senator Jackson Brays, representative of the L3 colony cluster."

Zechs looked at her curiously. "Why him?"

"Because before we learned of the aliens, the situation in the L3 cluster was beginning to look increasingly grim. Brays is an eloquent demagogue, easily able to play to the wants and fears of his people. His record's clean but the man's powerful and ambitious. He openly supports autonomy for the colonies. If he has so much support through the legitimate sectors of his cluster, it stand to reason that he could have control over the resistance they have brewing out there."

Trent shook his head. "I didn't think it was that bad."

Midi shook her head. "Neither did I, before I went. They've covered their tracks very well. The only reason that I found out was because the propaganda was being distributed openly. We're looking at a net work dating back to the pre-Marimaia era. Very dangerous."

Wuffie nodded again. "So we're saying that Brays is ignoring the pending alien assault and going through with his original plans?"

Midi nodded. "It looks that way. If it is Brays." She paused. "That reminds me," she turned to Trent, "Trent, I want you to run a thorough back ground check on our good friend the senator."

Trent nodded. "Yes ma'am."

Midi turned to the rest of the group. "This is where we part ways, I'm afraid. Sally and Wufie, the two of you will be leaving for Jordan immediately, along with a pair of our new _Orion_ class mobile suits. You're to investigate the reports of unregistered Mobile Suit activity. Zechs, take the Talgeese III and Noin, take the Apollo. You two are going to be doing the same thing in San Francisco. All of you are going to take contamination suits and follow the strictest quarantine procedures. I don't want any of you getting sick out there."

They all stood at once and saluted. "Yes, Ma'am!"

She leaned back tiredly. "Good luck to you all."

* * *

The aircraft carrier _Adirondack _plowed through the icy brine. The northern Pacific was freezing cold and all crew that were not devoted to the unenviable duties of deck patrol were bundled up below decks.

A shadowy shape propelled itself easily upward through the murky depths. In the cockpit, Private Cadin Rowanoak gave a predatory smile. It was so easy, this big, lumbering craft would have no defense against the awesome power of his suit. It was time to show the ESUN that they were here, it was time to tell them this in no uncertain terms. 

The watery outline of the destroyer's hull grew even closer.

Cadin flipped several switches and the helmet around his head closed. The familiar matrix of the ZERO system glowed to life. The destroyer appeared as an expanding red framework, with glowing icons representing the reactor core, coolant hubs, and torpedo magazines. 

The predatory grin widened as a gloved thumb flicked a witch on the control yoke. A sulfurous yellow blade sputtered to life at the end of the suit's wickedly twisted staff. At this point he penetrated the sonar bubble surrounding the ship. The controller had just about enough time to begin the illustrious comment "What the fuck?" before Cadin's monster hit.

The scythe cleaved a melted arc through titanium plates and bulkheads. The arc widened enough for a Gundanium hand to reach through and lever aside the thick plates as if they were a heavy sheet. Water proceeded to rush into the compartment. Hatches immediately dogged shut on automatic circuits, but it was too late. The horrible figure was inside, and cutting it's way into the compartment above lie a malevolent cancer. Within a minute, it was clawing its way onto the flight deck, its angular and evil shape silhouetted by billowing flames. 

The monster had clawed through a main coolant hub on it's way to the deck, and the deck guns were just coming to bear on the mobile suit when the reactor suddenly found itself without means to control it's destructive heat. The mobile suit spread it's wings and leapt into the night sky, with a white-hot beam of pure energy close on it's heels.

The frigate that had been accompanying the carrier turned it's guns upon the suit as it turned haltingly and prepared to flee towards reinforcements. It did not detect the two black canisters that were dropped to about a hundred feet above it's deck, before exploding and covering the entire ship with invisible spores.

Plaguescythe folded it's wings and plummeted into the black waters, it's most potent weapon all ready rushing toward Preventer Pacific fleet headquarters.

Two hours later, the first members of the deck crew began to get sick…

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Hope ya'all enjoyed that, I should be back to normal for next chapter. Again, I beg of you to review, but not spoil in your review. Flamers are accepted.

Next chapter: _Zealots and War Pigs_


	10. Zealots and War Pigs

Okay, so it's been a while, lets just say D-scythe had to go on an involuntary hiatus and that he's sorry. Here's the newest chapter and here's hoping there's still someone who wants to read it. Enjoy!

As the alien fleet grew ever closer to the station, the atmosphere had become choked and cramped. The air seemed stale and the silence in the corridors was almost brittle. Admiral Grapphin now spent all of his time on his own ship and delivered orders by way of gruff video comm reports. Gloval and his crew found themselves spending more and more time in the bubble, helpless and confused.

Despite the success of the first missile barrage, there had been no further assaults against the approaching armada. Everyone seemed to be in a state of apprehensive waiting, afraid to do something, more afraid of waiting to be slaughtered.

Gloval had taken to reciting morbid quotes and Jennessa had become quite religious over the past few days. She would sit at the table farthest from the entrance with a bible open in front of her. Only Gloval paid enough attention to note that her readings were all from the back of the book. The book of Revelations. The end of the world.

He wandered over to her, ever-present cup of coffee clutched in his hand. She looked up and nodded to acknowledge. He sat down and brooded over the steaming black liquid. "And there shall be a blooded moon in the sky, and all mankind shall be brought to harvest come Reap."

She did not look up as she responded. "Behold, the fourth trumpet was blown and God hurled a stone from the heavens. It's name was wormwood and when it came, it poisoned a third of the springs and a third of the seas and a third of the rivers so that behold, a third of all the waters on the Earth became bitter and men died of drinking it, as did their cattle and their fowl and their lambs in pasture."

"Your daily reading goes well, I see."

She shrugged and again did not look up. "It is a better way to pass the time than most."

"Why do you only read Revelations?" Gloval asked, all ready knowing the answer.

Now she did look up. "It's seems rather topical."

He snorted. "You believe these Aleraus are angels of God, bringing plagues to judge non-believers?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "I believe that I need something to believe. What about you Commander, where do you find your endless stream of dark quotations?"

"Literature of the 19th and 20th century. Stephen King, Poe, the like."

"Dark subjects," was her only comment before returning to her passage.

It was Gloval's turn to shrug. "Dark times."

They sat for a few more moments in silence before the PA system began to blare a klaxon followed by the recorded message; **Urgent! All Senior staff must report to briefing theater at once! Urgent! All Senior staff must report to briefing theater at once!**

Gloval was taking his feet tiredly when the message abruptly changed.

**All Pilots to your fighters! Launch Patterns for capitol ship and fighter screens! This is not a drill! All Pilots to your fighters! Launch Patterns for capitol ship and fighter screens! This is not a drill!**

"What the hell?" Gloval was bewildered.

"Oh don't worry," Jennessa began morbidly, still not looking up, "Hell will be here soon enough."

* * *

The missile emplacements that had been quiet since the first test roared their silent fury into the vacuum, hurling their plasma tipped messengers of death screaming across the void. There was no sound in space, but one could easily imagine the titanic roars these heralds of doom would make to announce their plasma tipped messages of destruction to their targets.

A group of five peeled away from the main mass and made a relative drop towards the deck of a giant destroyer that was grinding its majestic way through the airless abyss. Only two reached their destination. 

The other three were intercepted by swarms of small needle-like fighters that boiled from swooped hangers in graceful columns of rapid moving war machines. Those fighters that intercepted the missiles made no attempt to evade or destroy the bombs, they merely crashed into the bombs and allowed themselves and the squadrons closest to them to be engulfed the all cleansing fires.

The first barrage of missiles was followed quickly by a second and a third, and while many capital ships were destroyed or disabled, there were many that were saved by swarms of small fighters, the survivors of which would then turn and hurl themselves towards the station, or more importantly, the _Griffin_ class destroyer _George Washington _in front of the station.

The casualty count was about to rise.

Human fighters launched efficiently from their hangers and arced relative up, in hopes of coming down on the enemy formation. The humans were flying a variety of different space fighters. The fastest fighters, the I-17s, were the first to engage the enemy. The narrow and swift fighters arced down towards their foes and sent spiraling bolts of energy streaming towards the needle-like enemy fighters. Splinter fighters, as they would soon be identified in the slang of humanity's fighter pilots, began to disintegrate in balls of plasma and shrapnel. All in all, the I-17s had great initial success during the beginning of the skirmish.

Coming more slowly behind the I-17s were squadrons of _Nimbus_ gun-ships. These three-man fighters bristled with four omni-directional beam turrets, one on the top and bottom of each wing. Unfortunately, compared to the I-17s, the _Nimbus_es were agonizingly slow. Splinters would break from their fierce dogfights with the I-17s to descend upon the lumbering craft in great swarms. It would not be long before a gun-ship's crew was overcome by the sheer number of attacking fighters.

As the last of the _Nimbus_es reached combat range, Admiral Grapphin ordered his bomber groups, which had not yet launched, to drop back into the asteroid belt, then descend below the solar plain in an attempt to come up under the enemy fleet and take some of their capitol ships by surprise. The bombers, which would have fared worse than the gun-ships, were _Valkerie_ class. Slow, but bursting to the gills with plasma weaponry.

And so the battle commenced. The _Nimbus_es dropped back to the battle's perimeter and formed a picket line to slow the enemy advances. The I-17's did well for about an hour, before fatigue, sheer numbers, and rapidly dwindling fuel began to take their toll. Not to mention the sheer number of enemy craft. Finally, an hour and a half after the engagement began, Admiral Grapphin gave the order for all craft to return to their ships.

Grapphin sat in his command chair as the human fighters returned to their hangers. To his surprise and pleasure, the alien fighters were also withdrawing.

His pleasure was short lived however. With a growing sense of unease, he distantly heard the report that the alien fleet also appeared to be slowing and coming to a stop. Over the next hour, he and his crew watched the sensors as the alien ships rearranged themselves in a choreographed waltz of titans. A massive ship entered the sphere of sensor range. It was nearly the size of a colony. It almost appeared to be made entirely of crystal. Spires of crystal reflected cold starlight brilliantly and arches of gold throbbed with celestial power. After a time, this mighty work of art, a ship so inconceivably huge as to deny possibility, came to the front of the aliens line.

Every monitor in the station suddenly hummed to life with the image of a strange and beautiful creature. It had a sleek elongated face of radiant bronze skin. It's eyes seemed to be filled with pearly luminescence. Silvery hair cascaded down out of the screens view after sweeping behind arched ears that came to delicately fluted points.

For the first time since first contact, Humans would hear the actual voice of one of their attackers, not a psychic link. The voice was low and melodious, like honey and whisky. It spoke softly, yet had an instant and awesome command. 

"Humans. I am the lowest servant of Aleraus. As such, I have learned your language and lowered myself to speak with you. We have come to cleanse you, accept your baptism in holy fire and know that you shall be reborn in a righteous glory, truly able to sustain the will of Rammah. Cease your foolish resistance and rejoice, that you will be among the first to receive bliss! Those that have gone before you are all ready being transformed into noble and holy creatures of light. Sing for joy that you may join them!"

The screens cut off abruptly and the air in the station seemed to grow dense with horrified anticipation.

Deep within the heart of the massive ship, a lance of pure light was forming. It pulsated with pure fusion plasma from the core of the mighty ship. The spires at the front of the ship began to glow even more brightly. 

A beam of light, seeming so thin as to be powerless sprung from the largest spire. It struck the side of the _George Washington_ and the two ships were connected by a beam of light that seemed no larger than a strand of spider-web. The light pulsed once, twice, three times. Over and over, faster and faster until it seemed to have grown immense.

Grapphin and his crew watched helplessly as their ship refused to respond to any commands. The ship would not, could not, move. And still the beam grew larger. A brilliant flash of life. Grapphin and his vessel were gone.

The alien fleet began to advance again.

* * *

The misty drizzle had become a lashing rain. Thunder boomed mightily from the sky and sheets of icy rain pelted the mud bound earth. Blue-white bolts of lightning arced across the sky in forks of furious power.

Heero had long since realized that they were not going to a safe-house, it was obvious they were going towards one of the private landing and launch fields operated by the preventers. He wasn't sure that Releena had realized this yet. She was still staring dazedly out of her window and staying silent.

Heero had also noticed that the only people that Duke had brought with him to guard Releena and Heero were members of his own division. Normal protocols, maybe, but they all looked a bit too hyped for combat, a bit too loyal to the head war-pig himself.

It hadn't seemed possible a moment before, but the rain began to come down even harder. It sounded like there might be some hail getting mixed in there as well. The phone in the driver's section of the limo began to beep. The driver punched the button. "Yeah?"

Dukes voice filled the compartment. "Pull over here. We'll do it here."

Heero instantly tensed but it took a few moments for Releena to realize they were slowing. The driver pulled a gun from his belt and stepped out into the deluge. The scene outside was completely hidden by the pouring rain. Heero glanced at Releena. "Do you still have your phone?"

She looked confused. "Yes. But you all ready know it's being jammed."

Heero shook his head, "Doesn't matter. Give it to me."

She silently handed over the cell phone and Heero popped the battery pack off with his finger nails. He then levered the casing against a bit of metal paneling until it popped free, revealing the power cells inside. He carefully pulled one free and reinserted it backwards. Then he teased out a bit of wire and twisted it around an opposite contact. He popped the casing back on and refitted the battery pack.

He turned to Releena. "Releena listen to me very carefully. They are going to unlock that door any moment, when they do, as soon as I'm out, follow, break left, and run as fast as you can."

"But why?"

"Because Duke plans to kill us, that's why. Just run."

"But Heero, you can't run, you were shot, you'll never make it." Her eyes filled with tears of fear.

He looked out grimly. "Don't worry about me." A shadowy figure loomed up outside the window. "Here we go, remember, cut left and run."

The door swung open. A burly man gestured with his automatic rifle, "Get out, both of you!"

Heero exploded outward and hit the ground rolling. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Releena bolting in the opposite direction. It was too late for the would-be executioners to turn towards her as they had all ready brought their weapons towards Heero. Heero jammed his thumb into the power switch of the cell phone and lobbed it towards the highest concentration of guards. There was a whine and the phone exploded into a bright ball of flame and metal shrapnel. Heero was all ready running in the direction his wife had fled only moments before.

General Duke was coming out of his own limo when the phone exploded a small bit of metal sliced his left cheek open. He saw Heero's shadow disappear into the gray ambiguity of the rain. Corporal Sam Cross, one of Dukes loyal lieutenants, stumbled towards him holding his guts in his hands. He had actually picked up the phone, trying to figure out what it was. He took a few more staggering steps towards General Duke before collapsing with a moan.

Duke ignored him and screamed. "Fuck! Only Yui would find a way to make a bomb out of a cell phone. Everyone who still has all your limbs, all your guts, and most of your blood, get back in the cars. We've got a schedule to keep. If Brays wants them dead so bad, he can kill the fuckers himself!" Within a minute, the cars were pulling back onto the road and speeding towards the launch towers only a few miles away.

Heero stood and helped Releena to her feet. "We've got to get in touch with Sally, tell the preventers that Duke's gone rouge, and tell them to send a team to visit Senator Brays to see what he's got to do with all this."

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Next Chapter- _The Angels Cometh! _


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